#who pull me out of it and say: no you are creative; you are capable; you need to trust yourself more; you are are amazing; a s é do crlho!

[heartcravings]

.

[seriesxwriting]

not sure if you’re doing requests still but i was wondering if you could do Theo Reaken x reader where shes always there for the pack but gets pushed aside like shes nothing by them and Theo notices because hes trying to get in good graces with the pack again and then the reader gets kidnapped and the pack doesnt care so Theo takes matters into his own hands

My requests are always open!! I love to see into other peoples creativity and bring their ideas to life. Thank you for this one <3

I’ll follow you anywhere

Pairing: Theo raeken x female reader

Series: teen wolf

Warnings: fighting, deep wounds, kissing.

Summary: request x

“Stiles!” “Lydia! I’m so glad you’re okay” stiles swallowed while throwing his arms around the ginger girls shoulders. He held her head into his neck as she gasped from relief. “Is everyone back?” Scott asked walking through his living room, nodding at everyone.

“Yeah” malia nodded looking round the room confirming everyone’s appearance. “Uh no- y/n isn’t here” Theo raised an eyebrow pulling a face but keeping his thoughts to himself. “Oh- yeah y/n” malia mumbled to herself tucking her hair behind her ear awkwardly. “Oh we forgot about y/n” Lydia swallowed looked between Theo and then Scott.

“Who heard from her last?” Scott swallowed feeling the tension in the room. “Erm- not since she left” stiles licked his top row of teeth not giving anyone eye contact. “She made it to the location” Theo stepped in looking around at everyone suspiciously. Out of nowhere the door handle started rattling and the groups attention swivelled round to that.

A gentle knock followed and the eyes of the group glued onto Scott as he edged to the door, with precaution. He unlocked it pulling it open. I stood on the doorstep with tears in my eyes. “Y/n?” “Why was the door locked?” I asked gently wiping a tear off my cheek. “No reason- just an accident- come on…” Scott moved out the way opening the door wider.

“what happened?” Malia questioned seeing the dirty state I was in. “Uh you were right- it was crawling with berserkers” I nodded to Scott tucking my hair behind my ear. “I knew it! God- how are we going to get round them- did you see a way?” Malia questioned completely passing the fact I was evidently hurt. “Y/n come and sit down you’re clearly hurt” Theo pointed to the sofa with his head. “No- it’s okay- um I didn’t see a way I’m sorry, I was too busy running away from their clasp- I can always go back and…”

“No” Theo shook his head “it’s too dangerous” he outburst looking to Scott. “Theo you don’t make the decisions here- if y/n is offering to go back then…” Lydia shrugged slightly. “Scott seriously? It was possibly dangerous when you sent her the first time she got hurt- why would you send her alone again” Theo raised his eyebrow pulling a face of disgust at the group. “Theo she’s offering” Scott rolled his eyes.

“Theo stop it” I widened my eyes at him whispering under my breath. “I don’t mind- il let you know how it goes” I waved them off before squeezing past Scott to go out the door. I usally felt like I wasn’t part of the group but recently it’s picked up more. Of course I’m getting the hint but i keep thinking that if I do something helpful they will see I’m capable of being a full member. Theo came running out the door behind me.

“What are you doing?” I hissed at him from across the green front garden. It was starting to get a little late now, the sun was setting. Theo ran up to me and I didn’t even acknowledge what he was saying. He looked so pretty in the golden hour. “Y/n! Did you hear that?” He chuckled putting his hand on my arm. “What sorry no” “I said I’m coming with you” “why” I frowned turning my head.

“Y/n they are horrible to you- they shouldn’t send you back and you definitely shouldn’t go on your own” he said under his breath. “Oh, don’t sit up on your high horse you’re in the same position as me- you arrived a little late and you’re trying to get in their good books- are you mad because I’m a little better than you at doing it?” Shrugged pressing my car key to open my car. Theo pulled a face before running after me.

“Are you really that blind to it?” Theo questioned walking round to his side. “Blind to what?” I swallowed turning the car on. He invited himself in and closed us in. “Y/n they use you- they dont use me, they are open with how they feel about me- they talk about you behind your back- we aren’t in the same position” he told me as I started pulling off ten drive and taking us away from the house.

“Theo I appreciate your concern but they are my friends they don’t talk about me behind my back, if they didn’t want me to join the group they would have let me know by now” I told him smiling and shaking my head. “Oh god I feel even worse knowing you don’t see what’s happening” he whispered under his breath. “Theo will you drop it- I don’t know why you even came” I rolled my eyes frustratedly.

“I came because I don’t want anything bad to happen to you” he answered making my heart skip a beat. “And I won’t drop it because I don’t want them to hurt you when you do finally realise” he added on adding to the silence of the vehicle. “Thanks for looking out for me… but I don’t need your help I’ll win them over myself” “well if we’re in the same situation shouldn’t we stick together?” He whispered rolling his head and staring at me as I drove.

His eyes I could see out the corner of mine, along with his gorgeous smirk. He was making my legs feel like jelly. Which wasn’t wise because I was driving. “Stop looking at me like that” I told him in a small voice. “Why?” He questioned with a smile. “you’ll be responsible for your death when we drive off this cliff” i told him trying to focus on the road now. Theo chuckled to himself and then looked ahead. Nothing more was said and eventually we reached our destination. It was pretty much dark now.

It made it a lot more eerie. I stopped the car down the road and me and Theo got out looking up ahead. “What exactly are we here for” “we need to try and get in” I shrugged looking at our challenge pretending that I was screaming inside from the fear. “Come on then” he whispered walking fearlessly in front of me. “Theo- be careful” I hissed running to him. “I’m alright” he whispered putting an arm around my waist. This is how we continued to walk up the road.

I did feel a lot safer with him next to me. I looked up at his face now in the moonlight. Still gorgeous. “This is so eerie, this place was crawling with them two hours ago” I shrugged looking around like a hawk. “I believe you” he told me looking above us in the trees. My heart stopped and I froze when I heard a low growl behind us. Theo squeezed my wrist before we both slowly turned around.

There were three berserkers in front of our exit and two coming from the sides of us. “Run” theo whispered to me. I saw fear in his eyes when I looked across at him. “Come on then!” I frantically grabbed his wrist and pulled him as I started running. He eventually realised what we were doing and what was going on, and he started running properly getting a full grip on my hand now. “Stop stop stop!” I squealed as two more stepped out in front of us.

As we stopped to turn one of them grabbed my arm. It pulled me squeezing my arm so tightly. “Theo!” I screamed as he held on tightly to my hand. I saw his eyes flash as his wolf anger began to show. His claws came out as he held on to me and let out a howl calling for Scott’s help. “Theo let go” I cried out pulling away from him. He fell just dodging one of their hands coming out to him. The berserker wrapped me in its giant arms as I squirmed, screaming to get out of its harsh embrace.

Theo jumped up and was now fighting them off while this one carried me away. “Theo!” I screamed thrashing about trying to get free. “Y/n!” He desperately called out for me. The last thing I saw was him watching me and he fought off the rest that surrounded him. That was before the berserker knocked me out against a tree.

Theo took an opportunity to duck under one of their arms and get away from the circle they were creating. Him being the piggy in the middle. He looked at what why I could have been taken but I was long gone. Theo felt panic spread across his body. “No- y/n” he whispered to himself before pulling it together and running away from the ones left. Theo jumped straight into my car and raced back to Scott’s house breaking every road sign and camera. He pounded on Scott’s door.

When he finally opened it he was in shorts and no top. He covered his mouth to yawn before letting Theo continue. “Y/n has been taken” he breathed with wide eyes. “What? By the berserkers?” Scott asked jerking his head back. “That’s odd- that haven’t taken anyone before usually just killed” “we can’t let that happen- we have to get y/n back” Theo ranted becoming a bit jittery from the adrenaline.

“Everyone’s gone home and got into bed” Scott shook his head looking at his pjs. “They aren’t going to want to come back out” he admitted looking at Theo who’s face had dropped. “Are you joking?” “No- it’s late” Scott pulled back getting defensive. “She’s part of your group are you joking, please say you are” he threw his head back taking a step down to get away from Scott. “We will get her back just in a few days when we plan out how to get in”. Theo shook his head.

“Count me out of this group, I don’t like how you treat outsiders” Theo looked Scott up and down before backing off. “You’re making a mistake leaving” Scott shouted as Theo walked off but he just scoffed, which Scott only heard using his wolf ears. Theo jumped back in my car and sat for a second with both hands on the steering wheel.

He was just thinking. Thinking about what to do. “Come on Theo, you can do this yourself” he whispered to himself. “You don’t need the pack” “just need to think” he told himself seriously. “I can do this” he nodded before starting the car back up. He then drove as fast as he could back to the place I was taken. He over took cars on dangerous roads, risked his life and other peoples to get to me.

Theo drove right up to the entrance and got out with glowing eyes. It was quiet. It was dark. Theo looked around for something to sink his teeth into. Out the corner of his eye he saw a berserker come out the trees. Theo headed straight toward it with no fear this time only anger. Theo went under his arm and kicked his back so the berserker was on the floor. With one punch to the head Theo cracked the skull of the creature and it stopped moving.

He looked around for something else to kill, but his ear twitched. Clapping started appearing and Kate walked out of the tree like. “Well done- not many people who can kill berserkers” she raised an eyebrow looking him up and down. “Is this what you want?” She held the triskillian in her hand up at theo. “No” Theo shook his head. Kate jerked her head backwards. “Yes it is” she frowned. “No- I’ve left that pack- I don’t care what they want” he snarled.

“Don’t say you’ve come to join the opposite side you rebel” she winked at him but Theo just rolled his eyes. “Kate, I just want y/n back” “y/n?” She pulled a face. “Oh the one with y/c hair- the petite one?” “Yes y/n” Theo nodded once. “We don’t have her anymore” Kate shrugged carelessly. “What do you mean? Who has her?” “Nobody- I thought she’d ran back to the pack she got away” Kate explained. Just then, to the side of the two the leaves started rustling.

“Call off your berserkers Kate, I’m no threat to you” Theo told her dangerously. He was feeling a lot of emotions right now. “Theo that’s not one of them” she shook her head looking intrigued. Theo’s claws retracted out as he stared at the leaves. I stumbled out barely being able to even see straight. I thought I could hear his voice so I walked towards it. I could see a figure in the distance and it must have been him. Or I was hallucinating from the blood loss. “Theo?” I called out quieter than I thought I’d said it.

“Y/n” Theo whispered to himself before running over to me as quick as he could. “Y/n can you hear me” he whispered rubbing my cheek with his thumb. I didn’t say anything but I moved my hand up to hold his as I fell in and out of consciousness. “Take her to the hospital” Kate called out. “You’re just going to let us go? Just like that?” “You told me you’re no longer part of the pack- why’s that?” Kate shrugged stepping closer. “I told them y/n needed help that she’d been taken- but they didn’t care- they treat her badly- I don’t like their morals” he answered.

“Then they’re your enemy just as much as mine, it would be silly to hurt a potential ally” Kate raised an eyebrow. Theo didn’t say anything he just turned to me ignoring her comment and lifting me into his chest. He nodded at Kate when we left and he reversed out the space. Theo then sped all the way to the hospital where he gave me across to Melisa.

The next day-

I woke up yawning in a hospital room. I was strapped into a bed and was attached to various drips. Theo was sitting in the corner with his eyes closed on a chair. They’d given him a blanket too. I smiled at him before picking up the buzzer next to me and pressing it. Theo jumped awake looking towards me. “Y-you’re awake” he stuttered scrambling up to come by my side. “Yeah- you’re here” I smiled warmly. “I- couldn’t leave you there knowing- I could do something” “Theo” I put my hand out for him to come closer.

He jumped up walking slowly over to me. He looked like he hand guilt behind his eyes. “Thank you” I breathed pulling him in for a hug. “Anytime gorgeous- anywhere” he whispered in my ear holding me tightly. “The pack were right behind me- I just am a better driver” he shrugged sitting on the side of my bed and holding my hand with both of his. “Yeah- I can imagine” I hummed rubbing his bicep gently. I looked at his arms and tried to put my whole hand around it. I couldn’t even get close.

Theo noticed what I was doing and chuckled. “Impressive mr reaken” I smiled squeezing his arm. “You know I think you’re gorgeous too” I blinked up at him. “You’ve never said it but I know that you think it” Theo winked at me leaning in closer so he could whisper. In that moment the door opened. “H-hey y/n” Scott waved smiling at me which must have been fake because he then looked at Theo with the same one.

“Oh you guys are here aw that’s so great” I smiled back, sitting up and putting my hand on my heart. Malia filtered in as the last one. Stiles and Lydia were there too. “Yeah we thought we’d come and check on you- make sure you’re ready for the big fight tonight” malia put her hands together. “Tonight?” Theo scoffed rolling his eyes. “Stop it” I whacked Theo on the rib gently. “Big fight mmh I remember you talking about it” I nodded “yeah that’s tonight so we need all hands on deck, so- we’re glad you’re okay” stiles laughed nervously.

“Obviously we would have rescued you our selves, but…” scott trailed off scratched the back of his head. “Yeah don’t worry Theo explained that you were right behind him” I smiled nodding. Scott eyed Theo before smiling at me and putting his thumb up. “Good- good good- so we will see you later then” Lydia waved and blew me a kiss. “Yeah you should go” I swiped my hand in the air.

“Mmh we should” stiles nodded making his way to the door. “Yeah you should, just don’t be expecting me at that big fight of yours” “what! Why?” Malia outburst, wrinkling her forehead. “I know Theo’s covering for you- you wasn’t right behind him you were tucked up in bed knowing I was in danger” I told them dropping the smile from my face. “I know you don’t like me and you treat me badly, you don’t appreciate me and you’re never going to accept me in this tight circle” I added in counting on my fingers.

“Y/n…” Scott blinked but I cut him off “no im not finished thank you for asking, you don’t respect me and it’s time I stopped respecting people who only showed up here to check it was okay to drag me out of bed to sit in another fight on the front line even though I’m still hurt from a previous wound from your battle you that forced me into!” I shouted pointing at the door. “You should be ashamed- and I should be ashamed it took me so long to realise” I folded my arms and lied back down.

“Y/n we…” “get the fuck out” Theo lit up his eyes standing up. “Fine” Scott swallowed and backed out the room with stiles and Lydia. “You’re both made for each other” she spat staring us up and down before storming out. Once they were gone Theo twisted his head to me. “How did you know?” He widened his eyes dropping his anger and becoming all soft again. He only did that with me. “I heard you- talking to Kate- I heard what they did to me and you and that you had left” I half smiled taking his hand to hold in mine.

“And I’ll follow you anywhere Theo raeken” I looked up into his eyes. Theo’s eyes flicked to my lips quickly and in seconds his were against mine. I smiled against his lips and put my hand against his head pulling him in closer. My heart fluttered and I didn’t want the moment to end. We pulled away staring into each other’s eyes. “I don’t know where we go from here but- I’m glad you’re here with me” Theo whispered, his eyes looked slightly scared. “We’ll figure it out together handsome” “I’ve never had anyone say that to me before” he breathed, I saw a flick of pain in his eyes.

“You have me now” I kissed his cheek gently. Theo smiled and puckered his lips for another kiss.

Theo raeken masterlist

Teen wolf masterlist

All series masterlist

Masterlist of masterlists

[zwolfgames]

|Mistakes|Platonic Yandere Alastor x fem!reader

Requested: /

Warnings: Alastor, condescending behavior, off putting interactions.

Parts: Part 1, Part 2 (You are here), Part 3

The two of you sat peacefully on the kitchen floor for quite a while. Alastor asked you about songs and he showed you his favourite's in return.

It was quite a sweet moment, considering the situation. Listening music during an extermination. Who would have tought?

Alastor hums along to a song he put on. You have to admit, he has a soothing voice. Indeed perfect for a radio host.

A violent scream of pain from outside shook you out of the calmness.

You had almost forgotten about the death outside...

Alastor eyes you curiously.

You may not know it, but he finds you calming to look at. No sharp edges... that big jellyfish cap. You look.. lets say, squishable.

Tough he knows better then to touch now.

"You aren't scared, are you?" Alastor hums in a sing song manner. Teasing smile on his lips as usual.

"There's no need to be scared when I'm here to protect you." He further widens his grin. You just nod meekly, opting to agree with anything he may say to spare your life.

"Y/N, dear. Don't you think you'd look better with a smile?" Alastor tilts his head so he can look right at you, trough the veil of stinging tendrils.

"No... not really? I don't have a lot to smile about." You blink up at him blankly. You see him tilt his head to the side in either curioustity or annoyance.

"How about you smile for me?" Alastor seems to smile even wider at his own ideas.

You attempt a little smile as to not get murdered on the spot.

Alastor seems content and had to stop himself from tilting your chin up to see better. Tough the only thing really stopping him were your tendrils.

"Y/N, is there perhaps a way for you to not sting?" Alastor asks.. way too obviously.

"No." You answer without hesitation. And even if there was, you wouldn't ever turn them off. Hell is dangerous and this guy is especially dangerous.

"I see. A shame, you look soft to touch." He admits casually. You almost cringe and resist the urge to back off. Why does he pull out the creepy shit after you two had a nice music moment?

A moment of silence passes, its awkard to you but the radio demon seems nothing but pleased.

"Say, my dear. What else do you presume we do while waiting out the extermination?" Alastor asks as if this is some playdate.

And truly, to him it was.

"Um... I have papers somewhere, we can.. draw?" You offer awkardly, you only have a destroyed kitchen to work with here. But you don't think he'd have appreciated playing minecraft anyways.

"Drawing, are you capable of that?" Alastor asks in amusment. You almost feel insulted at the way he asked that.

You just nod and take some papers from a cabinet. Finding pencils was a bit harder but you managed.

And Alastor defenitly noticed that you gave him the better pencil.... How sweet and considerate of you.

He doesn't know a lot of sinners who would do that...

Second mistake: A show of Kindness.

Well, atleast drawing time went on peacefully. Alastor was humming a tune with that radio effect enhancing his voice, it was quite calming and your stress ebbed away from you slowly as you just focussed on your drawing.

You aren't sure how much time passed before Alastor stopped humming but he snapped you out of your creative trance.

"What do you think ,dear?" Alastor smiles a bit more genuinly.

He holds up his pencil drawing of... you. Just You. With your little smile.

You blush faintly in a rather shy manner and try not to look away from his drawing.

You didn't know he had a talent in drawing. You also didn't know you were drawing eachother. Yours was just todays made up OC.

"Thats.. very pretty... I'm flattered." You mutter out in embarrasment. Alastors grin widens.

"I just wanted to capture you, as I carry no camera's on me." Alastor boasts as if that's the coolest thing ever.

"Thats neat." You stick a thumb up, it therefore comes out under your stinging veil.

You notice your mistake quite quickly as your hand is taken in the Radio demons.

"I knew it, soft. You're quite untouched, aren't you? Well, that would be obvious, seeing your ability." Alastor smirks. It's as if his main goal this whole time had been to grab a hold of you.

He's quite cold, pointy fingers. Kinda eery.

"Oh look at your little startled face. You're adorable." Alastor teases with slightly lidded eyes.

You attempt to pull back out of embarrasment but he holds on.

"Are you scared?" 

Alastor asked in a more serious voice.

"Not really, you're just cold." You answer simply, hoping thats a decent enough answer.

"Is that so?" Alastor hums, a twitch in his smile as he lets go.

He stands up and summons his cane.

You refrain a flinch as you fear the worst but he instead just summons a couch and a bunch of books.

"Come, sit. We still have some hours to pass."

_____☆_____

Cool

Tag list: @ceramic-raven , @oo0lady-mad0oo

[storm-angel989]

I love your work so much💛

Can I request Valentino x daughter reader fic. Anything of your choice, reader is really chaotic and unpredictable :))

Summers in hell are known to be brutal. After all, the rings weren't exactly known for their comfortably cool fall temperatures, or glistening white winters. But this summer seemed to be even hotter than normal, and as Valentino closed in on day six solo parenting his daughter, he was desperate for any source of entertainment that would keep his daughter cool and happy. 

“We could take her to the beach, you know,” Vox suggested over breakfast that morning. “Technically…I could take the day. I mean, you probably shouldn’t take her out alone.” He glanced at his niece who was happily sorting by color her morning breakfast of fruit loops. 

Valentino glanced at Velvette. Without his wife next to him, Valentino normally wouldn’t dare to take reader out of the apartment by himself. He inwardly cursed the fate that pulled his wife away from their family for an entire month. But then again, her job was important- and he knew she hated leaving them for so long as much as he did. 

“A trip to the ocean sounds lovely. I’m in,” Velvette declared. “It’s too hot to do much anything else.”

“What do you say ninita? Would you like to take a trip to the beach?” Valentino asked his five year old. 

Reader considered for a moment and then nodded her head as she finished the last bite of her breakfast. 

That settled it. An hour later, and one lecture from Valentino on water safety, the limo pulled up to one of the few beaches in hell. Already the sands were packed with hundreds of demons looking to beat the heat. Valentino held her hand tightly as they made their way through the crowds, closer to the water. He watched as his daughter's eyes lit up at the sight of the ocean. 

“Daddy, I want to swim!” She pleaded as she yanked on his hand. “Now! It’s hot!”

“Alright, alright bebita,” he said calmly. “Slow down.”

“Oh! Look at the shells,” she exclaimed as they grew closer to the water. “Daddy, let’s make a sandcastle! I can be the princess, and you can be the dragon and…”

Valentino listened patiently as he knelt next to her in the sand. Part of him was relieved she seemed to have forgotten about swimming for the time being. The waves seemed much, much bigger now that he had a daughter to look out for. 

“Uncle Vox, come on! Auntie Velvette! Help me build!” She demanded, pulling them both over to the spot she had chosen. “Here! Put it down and play with me!”

“Don’t be demanding,” Valentino gently reprimanded. “Be patient. Let’s get set up, and let me put sunscreen on you.”

She pouted and he kissed the top of her head before spreading the white sunscreen over her face.

“Ugh, Daddy!” she protested as he wiped the lotion all over her arms. “I don’t like it!”

“I know. But you don’t want to be sunburned,” he replied as he spread the last bit down her back. “There. Now help me put the towel down.” 

She made a face but complied. As soon as the umbrella was up and the chairs were out, all four of them knelt in the sand together. 

Vox frequently swore that someday, reader would rule the world. That her quirks and storytelling were signs of creativity, innovation and intelligence. She knew exactly what she wanted, and even at five years old she was capable of giving orders. 

“Uncle Vox, we need a sheshell door,” reader decided. 

“Seashell,” Valentino corrected gently as he stood up. “Bebita, don’t you want to come out of the sun for a few moments? Cool off in the shade?” 

Her eyes lit up. “Swim? Daddy, swim!”

Before he could say a word otherwise, she took off towards the water. Valentino rushed behind her and his arms barely made it around her waist before a wave crashed, soaking them both. 

“Damn it, sweetheart, I told you you needed one of us with you before you went near the water,” he scolded as the sand pulled away from under his feet. “These waves are much bigger than you!”

She didn’t seem too bothered. “Again, Daddy!”

“Bebita…” he warned but carried her closer inland before setting her down. He kept her hand in his as the next wave raked over their feet. She shrieked and jumped with the rhythm of each wave.

“We really do need to get out of the sun for a little bit,” Valentino said gently as soon as he noticed she was starting to slow down. “Come on, muñeca.” He lifted her up and carried her back to where they were all set up.

He rummaged around in the cooler and came up with a juice box. He stuck the straw in and handed it to reader before laying down on one of the blankets they had spread out. He watched as she took a few sips before casting it aside. Sleepily, she snuggled next to him and closed her eyes. 

After a few minutes, Valentino closed his eyes as well. He assumed that if she moved, he would wake up instantly. After all, he was used to her sleeping between him and his wife in their bed. Sure enough, the second she stirred, he opened his eyes.

“Hey, Val- I got her. Go back to sleep,” Velvette said, looking over from her chair. 

He wanted to tell her to keep his daughter out of the water. To remind her that she needed to take a break from the sun, and that there were snacks in the cooler. Instead, the exhaustion of the last week washed over him and combined with the warmth of the sun and the roar of the waves, he drifted back into a deep sleep. 

The next thing he heard was the sound of his daughters giggle. 

“Shussh, you’ll wake him up,” Velvette hissed. 

Valentino blinked and startled awake, casting a sea of sand over the immediate area. Velvette, Vox and reader burst into laughter. 

Valentino looked down at his sand covered lower half and let out a groan. “Really, you three? Really?”

“You were out Val, how could we not?” Vox laughed. 

Reader shrieked and jumped into his arms. “We got you, Daddy!”

Valentino let out a chuckle as he kissed her on the forehead. “That you did, my princessa. That you did.” He wrapped his arm around her as she climbed against him. 

“It’s getting late though, we should probably start to think about heading home,” Vox suggested. 

“No! I don’t wanna go!” Reader protested. 

“We will come back, I promise,” Valentino replied soothingly. “Here, put all your sand toys in the basket.”

She gave him a grumpy look and he raised his eyebrow. 

“We don’t have to come back, you know. Auntie Vel, Uncle Vox and I can come by ourselves if thats how you want to act.”

She pouted but to his relief, she began to toss all her toys into the basket. In a matter of moments, they were back in the limo, reader snuggled between Vox and Valentino. 

“Best day ever,” she said sleepily as she snuggled her head against Valentino’s side. “Again?”

Valentino smiled and ran a hand down her back. “Yes, sweetheart. We can go again.”

[therowdymagpie]

M6 vs. Escape Room

A/N: Don't ask me where this came from, I was just in the mood to write sth silly and fun XD.

Asra:

They find some way to sneak Faust in so she can take part in the fun(and maybe slither behind certain objects for clues)

Is the type of person who will find creative ways to escape without them having anything to do with how you're actually supposed to solve things

Has very good intuition when it comes to where or what the next clue could be but he doesn't care much for the time limit

Finds the expression on your face every time you manage to figure out a clue on your own absolutely adorable, so much so that they're letting you make most of the progress wanting to see it again

Could make any themed room romantic somehow and just finds excuses to cling to you any chance he gets

*Holds your hand in the dark*

*Sidles up to you and cuddles during a particularly rough puzzle*

*Whispers a hint in your ear*

Even in scary escape rooms, their chill attitude is enough to make you feel infinetely more relaxed

Very likely to steal some decor from the room to keep as a souvenir or because they found it interesting

Julian:

Surprisingly not as good at this as you'd expect

Now, has he had close calls and predicaments he's managed to find unique and out-of-the-box ways of escaping from? Yes, half his stories are like that

Has he been in a situation where he is trapped in a room and has to follow a hyperspecific line of instructions to escape? No, not really

Julian is more the kind of person that can get himself out of situations easier by talking his way out of things and being generally charming or unbelievable things just transpire around him and he takes advantage of them to somehow escape

Also the problem he faces in these types of places is: 1.He has too many ideas and 2.He thinks every item is suspicious

It also doesn't help him focus that you two are in close quarters for an extended period of time...

He is very capable with ciphers and word puzzles though

Pulls the "leave me behind" move at least once during changing rooms where an actor is chasing you for the dramatic effect: "Go without me my love! I will stall them as you escape!",

"...Julian I literally just unlocked the door, come in already."

Definetely gets jumpscared by the actors every.single.time but also applauds them for the great performance afterwards

Nadia:

Goes from extremely curious to immediately intrigued as soon as the door closes

This really appeals to Nadia's tinkering and problem solving skills and you can tell

There's a good chance that she's managed to solve 75% of the room in the first 15 minutes you are there but will she actually tell you? Of course not

She is just going to hold back a little bit so that the two of you can solve the riddles together and have fun

Unless any of her sisters are there with you....then it's personal and she finishes the room in 30 minutes tops

If there's a case that you two get stuck on trying to solve something, there's no way she'll ask for, much less actually look at the clues the people on the outside give you

The scary ones leave her with a startled "oh!" at best

(I mean she was engaged to Lucio, her married life was basically an escape room at one point)

Very much appreciates the follow up explainations of how everything in the rooms works and asks so many questions in awe, because she feels very inspired by some of the ideas and would like to implement them to her own projects

Muriel:

This man cannot understand the concept of an escape room

When you first come up and suggest it as a date idea he is genuinely baffled by it as you explain

So you're supposed to be stuck?

in a quite small room/s?

and try to figure your way out using stuff from around said room under a time limit?

"….......Why would you want to do that?"

To him this is basically what an anxiety attack looks like

He reluctantly agrees to try it after you say that it could be fun and that there won't be any other people but you two

Just please, DON'T get him into one of those horror themed ones, it won't end well for anyone involved

His height definetely gives you perspective on some clues though and he can be very perceptive when you get stuck on progressing through puzzles

Overall he doesn't do a lot because these types of spaces are pretty crampted

Isn't willing to do this again which is probably fair

Portia:

Say it with me now: PARTNERS.IN.CRIME.

Portia seems like the kind of person who'd really like escape rooms, the thrill of them is just very reminicent of exploring the abandoned wings and secret rooms in the Palace

So when you'd suggest one to her she'd be SO down for it

Loves any chance to spend time together but the feel of being in one of her mystery novels with you makes her especially giddy with excitement

Takes this as an opportunity to see how well you two work together and when you figure out stuff together is the best part for her

Cheek kisses or hugs every time you manage to progress further

She'd be very invested in the story attached to the room you chose

Honestly the employees are able to see how intrigued she is and how much fun she's having that they'll let you two go through everything regardless of time

She might have a slight weakness with not sassing the actors or taking them seriously enough but it's always in good fun and she always apologises

She'll certainly want to do this again

Lucio:

Let's be honest here, he's not the best person for this

The only reason he was so willing to go is because you mentioned it's timed, he's competitive and convinced you two can do it faster than anyone else

....Well. This is more complicated than he thought

He let's you handle the mental aspect of the game while he tackles the physical challenges

He opens doors for you right after you've unlocked them and carries the heavy stuff basically

Is the one guy from that video that gets jumpscared and instead of grabbing you and running away he grabs the actor

Most likely to break something thinking it leads to a secret room/ the exit

Don't worry he can pay for it later

You know this trick certain escape room places pull where they push back the clock a bit so you get to finish it time?

Yeah, they definetely do that to you and he is SO proud holding up the sign that says you escaped with exactly one minute left

[maryangelex]

Never Let Me Go (Pt. 5)

John Price x f!Reader

(Part 6)

Summary: After weeks away, Price comes back from deployment to a warm welcome.

warnings: nsfw!!, cumshots, praising, pulling out, p in v sex, fingering, some overstimulating

a/n: this is very much not as proofread as I’d like it to be but that’s what a 1 am burst of horniness creativity does

songs for this chapter are Kerosene by Yves Tumor but also Burning Desire by Lana!!!

Three weeks passed since then. John had let you know he'd be back home sometime soon if everything went as planned. During these last four weeks, you and he had remained in consistent contact, growing more and more comfortable with each other.  

At first, you had been hesitant to send him more pictures of yourself donning the few other pieces of lingerie you owned, but John made sure you knew just how much he enjoyed you taking his mind off his current situation.

He didn't pressure you, he never would be capable of doing so, but he did encourage you by sending you messages that let you know when he was in need of you, when he couldn't get you out of his mind, when he was desperate for you to ease his mind off work.

You, being your gratuitous self, never denied him that pleasure; you got to the point that you were beyond comfortable with letting John see your body, nearly every bit of it that wasn't clothed by the sheer lace fabric of your garments. Eventually, it was even he who wired you money for you to 'get yourself something pretty' for him, as he said. 

And you did just that by buying yourself sets you thought he'd enjoy seeing; teddies, rompers, garter belts, babydolls, everything you thought John would appreciate his money going to. You felt like his sugar baby, but you absolutely didn't mind, in a way you were flattered. 

You'd make sure to model every single new piece and John made sure to praise you and commend you for picking out something so perfect for him. 

And throughout all this time of waiting and being restricted to receiving John's affection through your phone screen, you couldn't help but count the days, the hours until he'd come back home. 

But you also couldn't help but wonder what this, between you and John, could be labeled as, what he considered this thing between the two of you to be? Surely it had escalated beyond a friendship, that line had been crossed a long time ago past the point of no return. John seemed like a serious man, and you knew he was much older than you to be doing situationships or anything of the sort.

You guessed you'd enjoy it for the time being, whatever this was, even though deep within you the long talks on the phone, the attention, his praises and affection, the way he showed you how much he wanted you, all of that was getting to you. 

You were in the cafe this Saturday morning, and it was a busy shift for once; plenty of people decided that breakfast at your and your cousin's cozy little cafe would be ideal, for finding a cozy, warm place to hide away from the weather that got colder and gloomier each day.   

Your cousin had made her best efforts to not pry into your little fling with John but she could only do so much. You had kept some mystery to it, but of course, it was difficult to contain the exhilaration of your escapades with the stunning man you had eating out of the palm of your hand. Still, you didn't want to give too much away. As far as she knew, you two were just texting and calling while he was away every now and then. 

The two of you were hard at work today, though, not much talk was being had except for the few jokes you two exchanged every now and then to take the weight of work off your shoulders, to alleviate the few entitled customers that walked in throughout the day. 

One of them really got under your skin, though. A middle-aged woman with a sour face had walked in to order a latte, and even though you had done your job and fulfilled her order, she still had something to say. She decided that she no longer wanted oat milk and instead wanted soy milk, demanding that you remake her drink, then deciding it was still not fit for her to pay you, and of course, deciding to insult you before being on her way. 

You were enraged at that, and that was your cousin's cue to tell you to take a break and go do some grocery shopping at the shops next door. With an exasperated sigh, you grabbed your purse and coat and stomped out of the cafe, repeating a mantra in your head to keep cool and not let some bitter bitch ruin your day.

You checked your phone briefly as you walked down the street, hoping to see a text from John, something that would cheer you up. But to your misfortune, there was nothing today yet. You thought about how much better your day would be if you had him around, even if it was just through a short text. Another heavy sigh left you, this one more mournful than irritated. 

You walked into the small family-owned grocery shop that was a few blocks from your cafe, your mind already starting to ease away from the negativity of that interaction as you wandered around. You and your cousin frequented this place to buy ingredients for the cafe, and for your personal shopping as well.

As you walked around collecting the items on your mental list, you felt your phone vibrate twice in your pocket. When you reached in to look at your screen you saw your beacon of hope; John had texted you. 

The first one was his usual morning greeting, followed by a second one that made your heart jump. 

"Coming back home on Sunday. Dinner?" 

You held back a squeal when you bit your smiling lip, biting the glove off your hand to be able to respond to him as quickly as you could. 

"My place at 8, don't be late", you replied, adding a few emojis to decorate your invitation to John. 

You thought about just how easily the man could single-handedly turn your shitty day around. Your shopping list just became longer as you sought out the proper ingredients for John's homecoming dinner.  

When Sunday rolled around you were off work, so you dedicated the entire day just to prep for your dinner. You had a whole menu prepared in your mind, even went to buy wine that didn't cost only £10. And something had possessed you to be John's perfect housewife and slave away at making him a Sunday roast. 

It was nearly 6 by now, and while you let the meat roast in the oven you hurried to get yourself ready. You showered with diligence, scrubbing the smell of cooking off your skin and hair. All you could feel was a mix of nerves and excitement to see him again. The thought of John's hands on you again, in the comfort of your own home where the two of you couldn't possibly have any disruptions, made your heart skip a beat. 

You shook the thought away as you threw on the dress you had picked out, one that hung on your body in every perfect way possible. When you got back to cooking it was nearly 7:30, so you checked your phone for any sign of John being on his way, or worse, for any sign of him not being able to make it. 

But you were pleasantly surprised when you saw a message from him letting you know he was in a cab on his way to you. Another moment of your heart fluttering. Now you were counting down the seconds till 8, not knowing what to do with yourself as you waited for the roast to reach its perfect temperature. Your mind was racing; you wanted everything to be perfect for John, you wanted to be perfect for John. 

Twenty minutes passed of you pacing around your flat, fluffing cushions that didn't need fluffing, biting your fingernails, dusting surfaces that didn't need dusting, and moving items centimeters in the same spot. 

You were snapped out of your fit of perfectionism by the sound of three knocks at your door, the sound of knuckles striking the old wood made you jump. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding before striding to open the door, and when you did so he was standing there like an apparition. 

That kind smile you hadn't seen in a month was flashing at you, tugging at bearded cheeks and crinkling the sides of deep blue eyes. You gawked at John like it was the first time you had seen him, the realization that he was real and at your doorstep dawned on you and you couldn't help the stupid smile that cut across your own face. 

"John," was all you could muster, and the chuckle that rumbled from his chest as he stepped closer to you made you realize that he was real, that he was really back, that he was just inches from you. 

John's hands cupped the sides of your face as he planted a kiss on the apple of your cheek. You held your hands over his own, feeling the man's rough skin in comparison to your supple, delicate fingertips that had never known labor like his. 

"Miss me, dove?" he asked, voice husky. Of course, you did, you thought, swooning at the sound of his voice, your eyes locking with his. How you missed those ocean eyes of his. You nodded in his grasp, your hands migrating to his shoulders as you stepped forward to place a soft kiss on his lips. Your pecks were gentle, shy even, as if the distance and time apart had you both starting back at square one. 

"I missed you too, sweetheart," he said against your lips, to which you giggled and gave him a chaste kiss before pulling back to lead him inside. 

"I hope you're hungry," you smiled. 

John let out a sigh, "Starving," he confessed. He entered your flat and you noticed he was still lugging his backpack with him. Your face dropped; did he come straight to you?  

John had a gift for reading your thoughts through just your expression, "Didn't wanna waste any time getting to you, dove," he said, gesturing to the backpack in his hand before setting it aside at your entryway. 

Fuck, his dedication to you never ceased to amaze you. The fact that he had gone out of his way to get to you the second he got off the plane ride home had you feeling some sort of way like you were the most important person in the world, a feeling John never failed to elicit in you. 

"You didn't have to, John, I could've waited for you," you gave him an apologetic smile. 

"I couldn't," he quipped, flirty bastard as always. You rolled your eyes, pretending like his courting didn't affect you. 

You took hold of his hand, bringing him along with you with a light "c'mere," as a command to follow you to the kitchen. John let you guide him, and when he caught a whiff of the cozy smell in the kitchen he practically melted. His expression was a mix of impressed yet embarrassed at the realization that you made all of this for him; you could see the blush painting his cheeks.

You urged him to sit at the table where you had set everything out for him, grabbing his plate to serve him the Sunday roast you had put your heart into making for him. He insisted on opening the wine bottle for you, it was the least he could do. 

"Fuckin' hell, love, I should've at least brought you flowers," he cursed, a scowl pulling at his lips in dissatisfaction with himself. 

"Well I'll give you a second chance for you to do so," you chuckled lightheartedly, already planning on this being a Sunday habit for the two of you. He liked your remark, evident by the approving hum he let out. 

You sat next to him at the table and the two of you shared the meal. It felt like this wasn't the first time, more so it felt like this was customary for you two; for you to welcome him with a home-cooked meal and a pristine house like you were his wife waiting for him to come back home. You basked in the feeling of it, completely ignoring the doubt that had lingered in the back of your mind.

John was none the wiser, he was enjoying himself thoroughly. You think he felt the same way; he looked content and delighted by the food and company, his hand never leaving yours throughout dinner, making sure he was holding you or touching you in any way as if to not let you go again, to not drift off you like a log in a river's current. 

There was a glow to him now that he was with you, it was almost angelic. And the way that he looked at you made you feel enveloped with endearment. 

When you were finished, and John looked like he was about to enter a food coma from how much he'd indulged in your delicious food, you felt more than satisfied with yourself as you rose from your seat to collect the plates. Immediately, John got up from his seat to help you; you knew he was unable to be a bystander when it came to you doing absolutely anything, the man couldn't live with himself if he did. 

He helped you carry nearly everything to the sink and insisted he did the dishes for you. The domesticity of it all made you feel warm inside. When you came back to the table to wipe it clean and put anything remaining away, you felt John's presence behind you, the heat of his body radiating against your back as he inched closer. 

You felt his large hands on your hips, stilling yourself as you revel in his touch. His hands scaled up your body, massaging the tender flesh of your hips and waist, feeling the plumpness and curves of your frame like you were clay on a potter's wheel. He hummed to himself and you felt the wetness pooling between your thighs. One of John's hands migrated up to your hair, gently adjusting it over your shoulder to expose your back in the strappy dress you wore. Your body was filled with goosebumps when the hairs of his mustache tickled your bare skin, peppering warm kisses on your shoulder blades. 

"Can't believe you made all of this f'me, sweetheart," his voice vibrated against your skin as he spoke between kisses. The hand remaining on your waist was sprawled on your lower tummy, pressing your ass flush against him. You could feel the hard mass of muscle behind you, the bulge of his crotch poking against you. 

"My sweet girl, so carin'...so stunnin' in this dress," his hand on your belly pet the silky fabric, while the other caressed up your arm, up to your shoulder, your collarbone, and finally stroking down your sternum between your breasts. His mouth occupied itself with the exposed skin of your neck now, his velvety lips gently pressing against it. 

The sound of him calling you his ringed in your ears, and you couldn't hold back the whine that brewed in your throat. 

"I wouldn't mind comin' home to this every day f'the rest of my life," he professed, and now you really were a wreck between your legs, all for this man's simple words. You wiggled your hips against his crotch, feeling the hardness that was confined in his jeans. That was signal enough for him; a sign that you were just as needy for him as he was for you. 

"Remember everythin' I said I'd do to you over the phone, love?" 

You nodded as your head lolled to the side, John's lips scaling up your neck and up to your jaw. His hands were now firmly holding your breasts, fondling the soft mounds of flesh. 

"Been thinkin' 'bout it all this time... thinkin' 'bout how good 'm gonna fuck you tonight, dove." 

Maybe it was all the wine you two consumed throughout your dinner, maybe it was the dizzying effect John's presence had on you, but without even realizing it you wound up in your room with him tearing your dress off between panting breaths and sloppy kisses. His hands desperately and messily scoured your now bare body, making sure to not leave an inch without being touched. 

Your hands got to work as well, clumsily working at the buttons of his shirt; he chuckled lightly at your nervousness and gently assisted you until you finally tore off the pesky shirt. Your tipsy mind took a moment to admire the man before you; burly physique with a comforting layer of fat adorning the taut muscles his career had provided him. Your hands caressed his hairy chest, thick and lush, and trailed down to his abdomen following the treasure trail of hair that trailed down his waistband. 

John's rumbling chuckle interrupted your gawking before helping you take off his trousers but staying in his underwear.

He gently guided you to your bed, his lips against yours whispering for you to lay down for him, and you complied, sprawled out on your bedsheets like a work of art made just for his eyes. He sat between your legs, looking down at your naked form and swallowing you whole, wide pupils burning a hole through you. You could see the way his cock twitched in the confines of his boxers as he eyed you, letting you know the sight of you like this was a delight to him. 

He dipped down to press his lips over yours, hands tracing the sides of your body down to take a handful of your hips and drag you down closer to him. You took a fistful of the hair at the back of his head as you kissed him deeper, your hips rolling up to find his clothed erection to rub on for some relief, but his grip only tightened on your hips and pressed you still on the mattress. 

"Needy girl," he whispered, giving your bottom lip a light tug with his teeth. Your response was a whiny moan and all he did was smile at your evident impatience. 

One of his hands scaled up your body, taking one of your breasts and giving it a squeeze before toying with the sensitive pebble. His mouth followed suit, popping the other unattended one into his mouth and sucking on it, making another pathetic sound come from you. 

He nipped your tits lightly, scattering bites and kisses alternating between the two while his fingers trailed down the center of your abdomen and down to between your legs. You absentmindedly spread them wider for him, the coldness of the room only making your drenched pussy more sensitive before he swiped a finger between your folds. The contact made you shudder, and John feeling your wetness made him growl a gravelly moan in his throat. 

"Like this for me already, sweetheart?" you nodded your head pitifully which only riled him up even more. The rough fingerpads of his ring and middle fingers applied pressure on your clit, rubbing tight circles on it. John propped himself on his free arm as he watched the way your mouth fell agape in silent moans and as you squirmed at the way he treated your delicate pussy. 

"P-please," you started, your legs spreading impossibly farther apart. 

"Please what, love?" 

"Need you, John," your nails dug into his shoulders. "Want you...so bad." 

John was too good of a man to deny his pretty girl anything, so of course he moved his fingers and slowly dipped them into your aching entrance, painfully slowly. A mewl came from your parted lips as you felt the pressure of his only the first knuckle of fingers inside of you. If just his fingers were this thick and invasive in your pussy you couldn't imaginejust how much his cock would split you open.

His eyes were fixated on watching the way your face contorted as he pressed further in, so so so slowly penetrating you, until his fingers bottomed out inside of you. And then a beat later, you practically sobbed when you felt the digits curl inside of you, seeking out the spongy, sensitive spot inside your walls.

Your hands gripped John's biceps to ground yourself as he fucked you with his fingers, alternating between curling inside and pumping in and out of you. His thumb joined in to rub at your throbbing clit, and his mouth busied itself with one of your breasts once again. You threw your head back and just about fell apart, hips rolling to match his movements as you selfishly got off on his fingers. 

"Fuck, doll...love how I make you sound," John cursed under his breath, mouth never leaving your tit as he lapped his tongue and tenderly bit the soft flesh. His cock was throbbing and leaking pre in his boxers, the impossible hardness of it almost made him lightheaded. 

His mouth moved to your neck now, lips sucking on your skin to make sure when you went out everyone knew you were not to be claimed by anyone else but him. 

"J-John," you sobbed, feeling the tightness in your stomach that was only rising further the more his fingers fucked you. 

"I know, baby, I know," he cooed, "be good and cum for me, yeah?" 

You nodded your head desperately, a hand reaching to tug his hair once again, peeling him away from your neck to crash his lips against yours. But he resisted, opting to keep his gaze on your teary-eyed face, his pace never faltering as he knew you were almost at the edge of the precipice. 

"Uh-uh, doll...wanna see your pretty face when you cum." 

With only a few more pumps of his fingers, your walls were clamping around the digits, your legs spasming and your moans being sobbed out as you came on John's hand. His rhythm slowed down, his thumb on your clit being the only thing moving and overstimulating your abused clit as you rode out your orgasm. Your ears were practically ringing and your mind was in a haze as you climaxed.

John's piercing blue eyes took in the sight of you cumming from just his fingers which were now completely saturated in your slick. He whispered praises as you came down from your high, breathless and sensitive. His fingers retracted from your pussy, collecting the juices that were oozing from you, that had now covered the inside of your thighs. 

"Good girl," he purred, "so fuckin' good... look at you, sweetheart."

He brought his fingers to his lips, sucking on them and closing his eyes as a delighted hum came from him at the taste of you. "Taste so fuckin' good...missed how this pussy tastes so much." 

You whined at his words and at the view of him tasting you on his fingers. Your hand weakly reached for his boxers, tugging on the waistband in a silent request for him to finally take them off. 

He looked at you and chuckled, "So greedy...want my cock even after I just made you cum?" 

"Need it, John," you said shamelessly, your eyes pleading for him innocently. 

He sat back on his haunches, tugging down his boxers with his clean hand while the other reached to stroke his aching cock, coating it in the mix of his spit and your juices. He moaned lewdly at the contact, slowly jerking himself off in front of you for a moment, lubing up his cock and preparing it for you.

You watched just how pretty he was in his hand, how he sat heavily on the palm of his hand, flushed red tip and veiny, with a hefty girth that you knew would tear you open. 

You watched him intently and your desperation for him was anew; arousal and neediness for him overcoming you again. You weren't going to be satisfied until John's cock was in you. 

"I did promise to properly fuck you," his unoccupied hand stroked your cheek and you melted in his touch, your sweaty skin felt like it was on fire.

"And I keep my promises, love." he purred, aligning his cock with your socked entrance that he had just so generously prepared. When he pressed inside you felt his girth stretch you wide, feeling the sting of the intrusion despite his prep-work; and yet, he fit so perfectly in you, like the last piece of a puzzle.  You gasped in unison as he buried himself into you to the hilt. He took a moment to savor the feeling of you wrapped around his cock, like a perfect mold cast precisely for him. Your walls fluttered around him, begging for him to move.  And after a beat, he rolled his hips, slipping his shaft out of you until only the tip was kissing your entrance, before slowly sliding back into you. He kept this pace, pulling out entirely just to bottom out to the point you felt the mound of hair at his base phantom over your skin.  You choked on your moans, nails digging at John’s shoulder blades as he pistoned his hips into you. His pace hastened and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled your home. 

John’s hand was cupping your jaw, holding eye contact with you as he bullied his cock into you. Those crystal eyes watched your tear-filled ones, watched the way you lost yourself at the feeling of his tip punishing that sweet spot inside of you. 

The way he fucked you was becoming more and more primal each thrust. John was at the verge of giving into every ounce of desire that he’d had pent up since the moment he walked into your cafe. Since the moment he’d tasted you. You felt the way his thrusts became harsher, the squelching sound of your pussy was lewd and sinful as you took every inch of him.  He held you impossibly close, his thrusts were shorter but impossibly deeper, making his pelvis rub against your needy clit. 

His breathing was ragged, huffing past his parted lips. 

“Fuck, baby…been wanting you like this…so fuckin’ long, so fuckin’ bad,” he tucked your sweat-damp hair behind your ear before lightly wrapping his hand over your neck, just to feel your pulse, feel that you’re really there, “you’re fuckin’ perfect, n’ you’re mine.” 

Now he slammed his hips into yours, thrusting with reckless abandon, losing himself in you. You let out a cry and tears rolled down your cheeks. A hand gripped at the tufts of hair in the nape of his head and his forehead rested against yours.  You were his, since the moment he walked through the door you knew you would be. And here you were, your heart racing and your pussy enamored by the way he fucked you and claimed you as his. 

You babbled mindlessly about how you were his, about how you wanted him to use you, how you wanted to cum so bad around his cock. So shameless you wouldn’t recognize yourself if you really heard what you were professing. You only heard a groan come from John and a string of curses as he fucked you impossibly deeper and harder, any further and you two would merge into one. 

One of John’s hands slipped between the two of you to rub at your clit. His mouth clashed against yours, swallowing the moans that were flying out of you at the added pleasure, before encouraging to be his good girl and cum for him a second time. 

“I can feel you so close, baby, so fuckin’ close,” he growled, lips still against yours, “let go, baby, be good and cum for me again, yeah?”  

And it was like his word was your command. John’s thrusts and the feeling of his fingers rubbing your clit made you cum once more. Your back arched off the mattress and you gave another sob as you clenched around the wide girth of his cock, body convulsing as euphoria consumed you, burning every single one of your senses. 

“That’s it, baby, that’s it.” 

John didn’t stop fucking into you, though. He slowed down momentarily to let you come down from your high. 

But then his pace picked up and became sloppier as he chased his own high, pounding into you to reach his own climax. 

“Please, John,” you mumbled drunkenly “Want you— want you to cum, too.” Your body went limp like a rag doll sprawled on the bed, arms falling over your head on the mattress, letting him use you as he pleased. 

John let out a growl as he leaned back, holding your hips in place so he could relentlessly fuck you to his heart’s desire. Huffing breaths and grunts escaped him, chest puffed proudly as he took you and used you like you asked him to. 

And soon enough, he pulled out of you, spurting ropes of cum onto your lower belly and pussy. He grunted as his hips faltered, cock pulsating as he painted your abdomen and entrance with his seed.  You moaned at the sight of him coming undone, at the feeling of his hot cum all over you. 

John supported himself on his arm beside you, panting breathlessly as every drop of him was let out onto you. You tiredly embraced him as he came down from his high, planting lazy kisses on his sweaty face. He gave you an appreciative hum as he slowly let himself lay beside you. 

The two of you lay on your bed exhausted, messy and in a haze but basking in the afterglow. 

After a moment, John reached for the box of tissues you had on your nightstand and cleaned up the mess of himself that coated your skin. You let him and gave him a smile that conveyed how out of it you still were, to which he chuckled pleased with himself. 

Once finished, he wrapped his arms around you, lifting your tired body to lay on top of his hairy chest. You were both sticky with sweat, but you were too drained to care as you lay on top of him, absorbing his musk and heat of his body. You felt his lips give a chaste kiss to the crown of your head before your lids started closing. 

John’s fingertips raked over the expanse of your back as you drifted asleep, the last thing you gave him was content sigh. 

He chuckled to himself, inhaling the scent at the top of your head before he let himself doze off with the weight of your body on him. 

That night you didn’t dream. Your body gave out completely. You had nothing to dream about since all you wanted was lying under you in the comfort of your bedsheets.

[vanillaavengerlings]

To all Fanfic/fanart/ fandom content writers/creators/artists/anyone creating fandom content

As we enter the week of 22 July, I wanted to write something hopeful for any writers, artists and content creators out there, because let’s face it, things happening around the world is so grim and most of us are trying to survive the days. 

So, here’s something hopeful for any of you who need this.😄

Please reblog this as much as you can as I would love for fandom writers/creators/artists and for fanfic readers to read this. 

Thank you!

A small background about me - I write fanfics, mostly in the Avengers/Stony fandoms. And it’s what I’ve been doing mostly for a few years, despite schooling and transitioning to work.

It’s my escape from reality. When things get rough, I start writing. Writing fanfictions gives me comfort because I know the characters and I love them, so I feel safe in a way and it’s stress relieving for me.

In 2018, I had to attend a compulsory internship so that I could get my diploma and graduate. My course offered a few positions and one of them was writing for television programs at a well known media company in my country. 

I wanted that job so bad because I wasn’t interested in the others, they were too ‘corporate-like’. So I applied for it. They asked for my portfolio of written works.

And then it hit me. My God, all I’ve written so far were fanfics with male pairing. I come from a conservative country so LGBTQ stories are super rare and can be frowned upon. But that’s all I had and it was all I could submit.

Guess what?

I did just that. I took excerpts from my WIP/published fanfics, and added them into my portfolio. I even went the extra mile and typed a short excerpt into a screenwriting format, like a legit script for a show! (TV writing internships pay special attention to your script writing abilities)

I submitted them.

I was called for an interview a few days later. I was advised to bring hardcopy versions of my written work, so I printed out the stuff from my portfolio. I went for the interview and saw my coursemates, some of whom I consider really capable and smart. 

I thought, there’s no way my fanfics and I stand a chance in getting this job.

I went up first and had the usual interview questions. The last bit came, where the interviewer, a prominent executive producer in my country, asked for my written samples. I handed her the file and gave her a brief explanation of my work.

I told her I published my written works online and have a group of audience who read and review them. I also added that I use their feedback to improve my writing as a whole. She was nodding her head and reading the script of my fanfic I had written. I was hiding my smile. Everything she was flipping through were Stony and Avengers fanfic excerpts!

At last, she handed my file back to me and smiled. It signaled the end of my interview. I went back to my campus and sighed, already looking at the other positions to apply to.

Two hours later, I received the email that I had gotten the job, as a television writer intern at a prominent media company. And all I used were my fanfictions I had written!

I couldn’t believe it worked. My fellow coursemates write really good content and I went into the interview with fanfictions and got the job!

To this day, when I think about this, I laugh. Not in a self-deprecating way, but in a way of disbelief, seeing what I can pull off.

To everyone out there who are thinking so lowly of yourself because all you have done are work related to fandoms, I’ve been there, and I’m here to say that you are so talented coming up with unique content from something that is so fixed and rigid. So don’t be hard on yourself. 

You’re not wasting your time just because you post stuff on AO3 or Tumblr. Every written work/art/creative content is a great way for you to practice and work on your skills. I mean, we all have to start somewhere, right?

Seriously, it takes a lot of talent, creativity and hard work to write fanfictions, draw fanarts and create any fandom related content. And it takes so much of courage to put your work out there in the open for anyone to read.

And that’s the thing! It’s a service that you are doing, letting people read your words, your story, letting people see your art and your creativity. 

Don’t be ashamed of your fandom works. And don’t be ashamed of reading fanfictions. They’re a part of you. So don’t think of yourself lowly. No way. You’re all heroes, in your own ways. 

Some of the best written stories I’ve ever read came from AO3, some of the best art works and funniest content I’ve ever seen are fandom related.

You’ve got this, you talented talented human being. Go out there and shine bright! 🌟

[shadeysprings]

Hey!! I was the anon that mentioned that I was religiously reading your Joel fics everyday! thank you so much for your writing them they are so good! 🫶 I was wondering if you can write dark joel Miller who is into Tommy’s girl (reader) 😳 you are so creative you can do whatever you want with the plot! Thank you so much xoxo

You ask and I deliver. I apologize if it's short but I hope you still enjoy! Also, thank you so much for indulging my Dark Joel fics. Your words have made my heart feel full❤️

Thicker than Water

—Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You're Tommy's girl but Joel wants to make you his.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, kinda cheating, fingers at play, threats & Joel being a meanie.

A/N: Wrote this on a whim so might be sloppy. It's hard to type while copy-pasting some data for work haha. I am hoping to make a one-shot with the same theme soon or would y'all want a series??

A drabble this may be, your feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated.❤️

“Joel—please,” You whimper as you grip his wrist, struggling hard to keep his hand from slipping past the band of Tommy’s boxers and into your panties. “Stop it or—or I’ll scream.” You wanted to sound threatening, but the tremble in your voice only gives away your fear.

“Go ahead then. Do it.” He taunts and your body shakes when you feel him lean closer, trapping you against the counter and blocking every means of escape. “Call Tommy for help, I dare you.” His hot breath fans against your cheek, tears slowly rolling down your face when he plants a kiss on your shoulder. “I can simply say that you seduced me and you’ll lose him and everything.”

“He—he would n-never believe you.” You groan, your grasp on his hand tightening when he finally slips it in, a reluctant moan leaving your lips when he cups your cunt and firmly presses his thumb on your clit.

“Wouldn’t he?” You hear him smirk, the tone of his voice making doubts circle in your head that Tommy, the man you love, would believe you. “You think he’d take the word of some slut he met just a few months ago over his own flesh and blood?”

“I—” You try to speak but his persistence stops the words from coming out. 

Another moan escapes you, your back pressing against Joel’s solid chest when he pulls you flush against him, and you push your thighs together to prevent him from going any further. But a sharp pain scatters through your skin when he pinches your flesh hard, your hand shooting up to cover your mouth and muffle any sound.

You don’t understand why he’s doing this, why he’s doing this to his brother. You never saw any signs of his desire, never once thought he would be capable of hurting you in this manner. It must have been hidden beneath his friendly smiles and helpful demeanor and you curse yourself for never seeing Joel for what he truly is, yet at the same time, befuddled at how he has easily masked the darkness he possesses.

“He won’t ever believe you, baby, so shut up and be still,” He snarls low against your ear and you stiffen against him when he slips a digit in your pussy, slowly fucking you in the middle of your kitchen. “Daddy’s busy.”

[circledemptiness]

Strangers In The Night

Fandom: Batman (Arkham Knight) Pairing: Edward Nigma (The Riddler) x Reader Rating: Explicit +18 Tags: Oral sex, Phone sex, Teasing, Dirty talk, Rough sex, Spanking, Pretending to be strangers, Public sex

✦ Part 3 of Show Me What You Dream Of ✦ Read on AO3

In the quiet of his mind, forbidden fantasies sometimes surface, crude scenes and obscene curiosities, stray thoughts parasitizing his breaks during his most busy days. Little depraved secrets perhaps to be shared someday when he feels ready to reveal them. For now, though, he is captivated by your regular presence in his life; a welcome addition that brings comfort without demands, a soft anchor that he tries not to overthink. As your relationship with Edward blossoms, he struggles to find the right words to define your relationship, to your great dismay. Meanwhile, you find more creative ways to tease him and entice him to explore his hidden desires.

Waking up beside you remains a privilege, a quiet luxury that fills Edward’s heart with a warmth he’s still getting acquainted with. Though he’s never been one to sleep much, he finds peace in the early hours, gazing at your sleeping face and savoring the gentle weight of your presence. Pulling you closer, he places a tender kiss on the top of your head, a small gesture that holds all the words he struggles to say out loud. In these quiet moments, he lets his feelings unfurl, allowing them to grow in the safety of your dreams, where his unspoken confessions and vulnerability can float freely, sheltered by the secrecy of your slumber.

He’s learning, too, to meet you halfway, showing up more regularly, and making a genuine effort to respond to your messages in a timely manner (well, he’s still working on it anyway). Even though you don’t really talk about what you both have and don’t define the nature of your relationship, his efforts seem to please you enough, if only long enough to ignore the silent question mark that seems to bother you so much. And as you allow him to evolve at his own pace, he reveals glimpses of his affection, his tenderness growing more apparent in his words and gestures. Even if he still hesitates at times, you sense the care behind each touch and look, and he’s grateful that you appreciate what he can offer.

As the boundaries of this relationship grow and evolve, so does your intimacy. Edward is discovering confidence in his touch, learning to navigate the contours of your body with a reverence he didn’t know he was capable of. His fingers glide with a now practiced ease over your sensitive places, and his mouth, eager and insatiable, seeks your taste with an insistent curiosity. Though your encounters still rest within the familiar realm of gentleness (his experience still quite vanilla, as one might say), he feels no hurry to explore beyond, content to linger in the warmth of this closeness. 

Every now and then, however, a flicker of curiosity flares within him, igniting a heat behind his navel. Tentatively, he might suggest something new, his voice stuttering over the words, cheeks flushed. And each time, you respond with an encouraging smile, your gaze filled with adoration. On other occasions, it’s you who coaxes him to explore, leading him into a new position, ever the temptress.

These moments stir questions within him; how well do you know your own body? How can he worship you in a way that matches the depths of his admiration? There are pleasures still unknown to him, whispers of desire yet to be spoken, and discoveries he hopes to make with you, in time.

In the quiet of his mind, forbidden fantasies sometimes surface, crude scenes and obscene curiosities, stray thoughts parasitizing his breaks during his most busy days. Little depraved secrets perhaps to be shared someday when he feels ready to reveal them. For now, though, he is captivated by your regular presence in his life; a welcome addition that brings comfort without demands, a soft anchor that he tries not to overthink.

It does mean, however, that he avoids taking you to places where he might cross paths with someone he knows. Once, you asked if he was ashamed of you (how could he be?), but his honesty was perhaps even harder to hear. He explained that he wasn’t ready to define what it was that the two of you shared, mostly because he hadn’t yet defined it for himself. You made a face at that; a blend of annoyance, frustration, and disappointment (or was it all three at once? Even now, he isn’t sure), and an uncomfortable conversation ensued. You asked him how he would define what you had, here and now. It was a question he refused to answer, insisting that it was a complicated matter (a regrettable choice of words), went on to say that he didn’t see any need to label your time together (why are you frowning?), and that this conversation was wearing him down (stop talking!).

“You never want to talk about it,” you shot back, getting up abruptly. You dressed quickly and left the room in a huff, and he, already drained and frustrated by the exchange, didn’t find the words to call you back. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to talk about it; he simply doesn’t know what to say. Everything about this is new to him, unfamiliar territory he’s still learning to navigate. More than anything, he wishes you could give him the time he needs to understand his own feelings.

It’s an uncomfortable topic, resurfacing again when you’re both lying in bed and he mentions that he won’t be able to see you next Saturday night. He’s been invited to a gathering with his colleagues; Gotham’s most powerful crime lords. He recalls, with a hint of nostalgia, that it was at one of these events where the two of you had first met. When you ask why he can’t bring you as his date, the words slip through his mind before he can voice them: One day, perhaps. You pout in response; a playful expression, though it may mask a deeper frustration and disappointment.

Wanting to avoid another argument, Edward presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his fingers tracing soothing patterns down your spine. He promises he’ll make it up to you the following week, yet he can see the hint of pensiveness in your face. As you roll over and settle half on top of him, arms crossed over his chest, you look at him with glassy eyes, leaving him uneasy. He wishes he could read your thoughts, a subtle fear and discomfort stirring within him, though he isn’t quite ready to acknowledge why.

“How do I know someone else won’t try to flirt with you there?” you ask, your insecurity clouding the smile on your face, which, Edward notices, doesn’t quite reach your eyes. He recalls the night you first approached him at one of those events, showering him with praise and compliments, setting in motion everything that has followed until now. Your vulnerability tugs at his heart, and he leans in to press a soft kiss on your nose.

“They certainly can try, but that doesn’t mean I’ll give their words any weight,” he reassures you.

At his words, your expression softens, and your eyes light up with a newfound warmth. Satisfied. Reassured. You lean down to plant gentle kisses on his chest, each touch sending ripples of delight through him. He hums in pleasure, already feeling a spark of warmth ignite deep in his stomach as your lips trail down his sternum and across his abdomen, following the line of hair that disappears beneath the blankets.

As your head dips lower, hidden from view, each press of your lips elicits soft gasps and muffled moans from him. His eyes flutter shut, and he throws his head back against the plush pillow, surrendering to the exquisite pleasure you give him effortlessly, willingly, generously. It’s a moment of pure bliss, a sanctuary from the insecurities that linger in the air, and he finds himself lost in the sensations you create together.

He’s already hard when he feels your lips wrap around his throbbing length, an exquisite sensation that sends shivers down his spine. Driven by his own lust, he rocks his hips slowly, instinctively moving in time with your tender motions as you swallow his cock. Pushing the covers aside with one hand, he gently finds the back of your head, caressing your hair with a mix of affection and desire. Your practiced tongue swirls around the sensitive head of his cock, and he can’t help but groan loudly in pleasure.

When your beautiful eyes, sparkling with mischief, meet his gaze, he instinctively bucks his hips, seeking the velvety warmth of your throat. “Greedy little thing,” he whispers, his voice low and husky. You respond with a soft hum, your mouth drooling over his length as you suck him earnestly, one hand cradling his heavy balls.

That night, he finds his release in your mouth, a blissful culmination of desire. As the two of you eventually drift off to sleep, it’s in each other’s arms, wrapped in warmth and intimacy.

✦ ✦ ✦

The following week, as anticipated, Edward immerses himself almost entirely in his work. He loses himself in his schemes, meticulously organizing the orphanage and keeping a watchful eye on the network he’s set up throughout Gotham. He knows he isn’t very present in your life during this time; a necessary evil that you both seem to navigate, finding common grounds and compromises along the way.

Occasionally, you exchange messages, typically filled with tender notes about your day. You share your routine and anecdotes with enthusiasm, and Edward drinks in every word you write, every picture you send. It’s a ritual that brings him comfort and connection. 

However, one night, the tone of your messages shifts.

I wish you were here.

Edward smiles fondly at first, warmth spreading in his heart as he reads your message, thinking nothing of the seemingly innocent sentence. But then another message follows.

I am so wet right now, thinking about your beautiful cock.

His phone nearly jumps from his hands, as if the infernal device were alive, the only thing preventing it from crashing to the floor being his quick reflexes. He stares at the screen with wide, owlish eyes, completely bewildered and utterly surprised. Never before have you sent him such explicit messages, and his body responds, well, instantly. A flutter of desire shoots through him, igniting something deep behind his navel, and his cock (his beautiful cock!) already stutters back to life.

He’s not sure how to respond; he’s never communicated his desires in this manner before, and right now, he’s engaged in an activity that demands all of his blood in his brain. Edward sits on a stool, one hand massaging his jaw as he contemplates his next move while the other nervously grips his phone. Then, another chime.

And my fingers don’t feel as satisfying as yours right now…

Edward gasps. Edward gasps, quickly covering his mouth with his hand, horrified to realize how effectively your words seduce him. The gears in his mind start to turn, and he can already vividly picture you, playing with your eager body, lost in your own pleasure, imagining the soft sounds of your voice echoing in his ears. Oh, the temptress you are.

Somehow, this stirs something new within him; a palpable excitement that causes him to bite his lip, a smirk creeping onto his face as he toys with the daring idea of replying –this would be appropriate, wouldn’t it? Expected, even?

Poor thing, can’t you wait for me to take care of you?

Your response comes almost instantly.

If you could hear me right now… I have 3 fingers inside of me and it’s not nearly enough.

Filthy thing. With a grunt, Edward succumbs to the primal urge coursing through him, reaching down to fish out his already half-hard cock from his pants. His fist wraps around it, pumping with a deliberate rhythm until he’s fully erect.

Add a fourth one then; you like it when I stretch you.

You do. You really do. You always sing so beautifully when Edward plunges his fingers deeply into your weeping cunt, pushing until they fit snugly inside you, the tightness so overwhelming you whimper and cry out obscenely. Each movement of his knuckles produces the filthiest squelching sounds, as if your body is begging to be ruined by his touch; permanently altered to satisfy his own needs and desires.

It makes him wonder, at times, if he could fit his entire hand inside you, if he prepared you well enough for such a sensation. The thought alone sends another wave of heat through him, making him groan as he thrusts his fist harder, caught in the heated blend of desire and desperation.

Can’t you come over and do it for me? My cunt is drooling for you…

Vile temptress. Beautiful minx. Magnificent siren. Edward hesitates for a brief moment, truly hesitates, his mind feeling like mush as every ounce of blood rushes to his cock; hard, angry, and beautiful. You don’t even realize the extent to which you’re debasing him, stripping him of his dignity as he roughly fucks himself in the public confines of his workspace. His wanton grunts echo in the iron-clad room, each sound a testament to the desperate tension building inside him.

This little game of seduction is nearly driving him insane; this virtual sexual encounter you’re orchestrating with such skill an experience he’s never had before but can’t seem to have enough of. He knows you’re fully aware of what you’re doing, how to craft your words to lure him in. You pull him away from his previous commitments, tempting him into this devious game of tug-of-war that pulls at his responsibilities and ignites his desires.

My greedy girl… I’ll make sure to reward your patience properly when we meet again.

His mind spirals with depraved fantasies of everything he wants to do to you the next time you’re together; things he’s never dared to attempt, yet always dreamed about. He imagines the way you will respond, how you will sing sweetly under his touch, and those thoughts collide in a tumultuous frenzy within him. Each vision crashes against the others, pushing him closer to the edge until his body betrays him.

With a fierce jerk, taut muscles in his stomach contract violently, and he releases a long rope of cum onto the floor. How undignified of him. He feels a wave of shame wash over him, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the overwhelming desire that continues to consume him. Another chime.

Fuck— I came so hard

Through his light panting, Edward chuckles softly, a sense of warmth flooding his body. The rush of oxytocin courses through him, easing his muscles and leaving a mindless smile etched on his face. After tucking himself back into his pants and tidying up the mess on the floor, he can't help but smile again, marveling at how close he was to succumbing to your playful plea. Oh, you perfect seductress, do you even realize the power you wield over him?

Goodnight, my dove.

He must admit, for the next few days, you do an exceptional job of making your longing for him clear. With playful messages, you beg him to see you soon, urging him, as you put it, to "rearrange your insides." You test his resolve, fully aware of how busy he is this week. You're not genuinely demanding he drops everything for you; you know which boundaries to respect. Instead, you revel in this not-so-innocent way of expressing just how much you want him, need him, and miss him.

Your ardent fervor is commendable, almost insatiable, and Edward can’t help but wonder if you’re in that phase of your cycle where you are full of life and desire. The thought, tinged with a primal essence, only fuels his own wilder, more bestial fantasies. More than once, he finds himself needing a cold shower to clear his mind from the filth that clouds his thoughts.

But even through his heated thoughts, he realizes that his heart grows heavy in your absence. Though he understands the demands of his work, he can’t fault you for seeking his attention. In fact, a part of him terribly longs to indulge you, to truly indulge you, and to lose himself in that intimacy. The strength of this feeling sometimes surprises him; it’s as if, in rare moments of clarity, he sees the shape of your relationship, the true contours of his feelings for you. When this happens, he lets himself explore these thoughts, hoping to finally understand the meaning of his heart. Maybe then he’ll be ready to have the conversation you’re eager for, to tell you what you mean to him.

He misses you deeply and wants to be near you. He doesn’t desire intimacy with anyone else, and, perhaps selfishly, doesn’t want you to be intimate with anyone but him either. Does this mean he’s yearning for exclusivity? Edward hums softly into his pillow, eyes fluttering closed as he drifts into sleep after another long, exhausting day of weary work.

✦ ✦ ✦

Do you have any plans for your evening?

The question is genuine, tinged slightly with guilt for leaving you behind for an event he himself isn’t particularly looking forward to. As he prepares himself, Edward contemplates the outfit he reserves only for the most formal, exceptional occasions. His bowler hat lies waiting on the bed, and his question-mark-shaped cane rests carefully against the wall. He flexes his hands in his fingerless leather gloves, as though reacquainting himself with their familiar feeling.

He sighs at his reflection in the mirror, pride swelling in his chest as he adjusts his attire. But then, a stray thought nearly deflates him; how he wishes you could see him like this, in all his splendor, witness the Riddler as Gotham knows and fears him.

He recalls the first time the two of you met; he’d been wearing this very outfit. Your eyes had shone, captivated by the fine details, each piece proudly branded with his unmistakable mark. That night, he’d let you speak freely, allowed you to caress his ego with admiration, feeding him compliments he never returned (though there had been many things he could have complimented about you). Instead, he’d simply absorbed each word, indulging in your praise with a smug arrogance.

Now, as he remembers, he feels a sting of discomfort, a sour taste of regret. Treating you with that same frigid indifference, that cruel disinterest he once showed, would be impossible for him now. Ludicrous. Preposterous. Surely, this must say something about him, right?

Who knows, maybe just have a drink somewhere, then head home early...

He smiles at your answer, a quiet promise forming in his mind to see you very soon, perhaps even tomorrow night, and finally put an end to the longing that lingers between you both. But tonight, he will stand as Edward Nigma, the Riddler, Gotham’s one true genius, ready to shine in the way only he can.

✦ ✦ ✦

The event takes place in a beautiful building in the south part of Gotham called The Pearl. Surrounded by shadowy alleys and near the botanical garden, The Pearl is an elegant, high-standard establishment known for catering to Gotham’s elite; or more specifically, its criminal elite. It’s an open secret that this venue welcomes Gotham’s underworld discreetly, offering a sophisticated ambiance unmatched by the gritty confines of the Iceberg Lounge.

The building itself spans six levels. Two of these are underground: the first is a moody, alternative bar with loud music and a more intense crowd, where petty and unsavory dealings go on with only a semblance of subtlety, while patrons partake in liberating, uninhibited activities. One floor below, security is tighter. Closed rooms and private offices serve as headquarters for criminals managing their own business operations.

The main entrance opens onto the ground floor, a modern, almost chic bar with a touch of retro flair. Velvet seating and intimate booths create a cozy atmosphere around a central, circular bar. At the back is a small stage for live performances, and the music here is tasteful, harmonizing with the elegance of the upper floors.

Above, on the second floor, is a reserved area for special guests; essentially an upscale version of the main bar, with refined decor and a private balcony offering a privileged view of the stage below. This is where Edward and Gotham’s other crime lords will spend the evening. The third and fourth floors are lined with private rooms designed for smaller, more exclusive gatherings, while the fifth floor opens onto a magnificent rooftop, providing a breathtaking view of Gotham’s sprawling skyline.

Edward lingers on the rooftop, savoring the fresh air as he scrolls through your recent messages. A smile plays on his lips as he reads through your affectionate greetings, the small talk about each other’s days, and even chuckles softly as the conversation shifts into more raunchy territory. He’s grown increasingly fond of these exchanges, treasuring them more with each passing day, even though he sometimes misses a message here and there in the chaos of his schedule.

Yet, despite his distractions, your presence has become a steady constant, woven seamlessly into his daily life. Since that first date a few months ago, he’s found himself increasingly accustomed to having you around, as if you’ve become part of his new routine. How peculiar, really, this new normalcy of his. And as he lets his gaze wander over the city lights, he realizes with a hint of surprise that he could truly get used to it, get used to you.

As Edward steps back inside, he feels a renewed surge of energy, enough to confidently mingle with his peers after grabbing a flute of champagne. Though he’s never been particularly fond of these gatherings, tonight everything, everyone, seems more tolerable, more palatable. He engages in conversation with a surprising degree of sincerity, his usual edge of disdain softened, and he even laughs at someone’s joke. Oh– could he actually be having a good time? Now, that’s certainly something new.

“You’re in an awfully good mood tonight, Nigma. Nice change from being an asshole,” Two-Face muses, a cryptic smile on their face as they cock an eyebrow. The comment catches Edward off guard, and as he swallows a sip of champagne, he buys himself a moment to find the right words.

“I suppose I am,” he replies smoothly. “My affairs are flourishing; everything is going as expected.” It’s not exactly a lie, though he purposefully avoids mentioning the real source of his satisfaction, skirting over the topic of you. Dent raises an eyebrow, bringing their glass to their lips.

“Been eyeing your phone a lot too, grinning like a fucking schoolboy. You getting laid, Nigma?” Edward’s eyes widen in shock at the unexpected bluntness of the question, his stomach twisting with a hint of panic. Cornered, he instinctively falls back on the only defense he knows; hostility.

“I fail to see how that might be any of your business,” he snaps, his tone sharp, almost indignant. But he can tell his response only amuses Dent further, a glint of humor dancing in their eyes as they watch him flounder.

“Don’t worry, it is of no consequence to us,” Dent’s voice is annoyingly smooth, almost charming, which only heightens Edward’s discomfort. The camaraderie catches him off guard, creeping up on him whenever he lets his guard down and isn’t his typical, guarded self. As he takes a moment to collect himself, he wonders what it might feel like to have a rapport with them that wasn’t purely adversarial; relationships that could be something other than hostile, perhaps something warmer. Just as he’d learned not to be so combative with you.

He hums thoughtfully, swirling the champagne in his glass before finishing it off.

“Though,” Dent adds, a mischievous edge to their tone, “warmth suits you”.

Edward rolls his eyes, only half-annoyed, but offers a meek smile in return, a silent acknowledgment of the remark. They are the only one who dares to comment openly on his softened demeanor, though Edward can tell that others have noticed, engaging with him in unusually pleasant conversations throughout the evening. It’s an unfamiliar experience, to say the least, and he’s glad no one else pries further.

As the night wears on, his mind wanders to past events where his peers brought their partners or companions for the night along, sharing the evening with them. He can’t help but wonder what it might feel like to introduce you to this side of his world. Introduce you as what, though? He pauses, searching his mind for the right label, the perfect title to define what you are to him. But nothing seems to fit just right, and with a slight shake of his head, he cuts his train of thoughts. Not yet. He’s not ready.

From the balustrade, Edward glances down at the crowded first floor. The music pulses as patrons huddle around overflowing drinks, gathered in lively groups or lounging comfortably in the velvety booths. His eyes scan the circular bar, his gaze passively flicking over faces and figures, until it catches on a particular silhouette that makes him pause. His brow furrows in mild surprise as he focuses on a woman sitting alone on a barstool, her back turned just enough to keep her face a mystery.

She’s draped in an elegant, calf-length emerald dress, a stunning piece that hugs her form and reveals an alluring slit running almost to the top of her thigh. Edward chuckles under his breath, a smirk playing on his lips as he shakes his head, thoroughly amused by your audacity. Ever the tease; you just couldn’t resist finding him here and tempting him, could you?

And yet, even as he thinks this, he wonders why he’s already considering taking the bait.

As Edward surveys his empty glass and glances at his colleagues, who seem to have temporarily forgotten about him, he seizes the opportunity to slip down the stairs, sheltered from any indelicate gazes. Hopefully.

Half of the crowd notices him immediately, parting to let him pass, treating him with the fear and respect a figure of his stature deserves. The other half, however, remains blissfully unaware of his presence; and oddly enough, he finds comfort in that anonymity. Surrounded by the thrumming mass of bodies, he navigates his way to the bar, positioning himself right next to you.

To his surprise, you don’t acknowledge him. Your gaze remains fixed on your own glass, lost in thought. One of your hands rests motionless on your bare leg, while your fingertips tap absentmindedly against the polished wood of the bar. From this close distance, he takes in the glow of your skin, the smoothness of your legs accentuated by the daring slit of your dress, and the plunging neckline that hints at the curves beneath. He can’t help but notice how perfectly you’ve painted your lips with your favorite berry-colored lipstick. He can even smell the faint hint of your body lotion, something delicious that always makes him feel like he could simply devour you. Oh, you pretty little temptress… 

“Have you come here to taunt me, then?” Edward cocks an eyebrow, a wicked smile spreading across his face. The tension of the past few days simmers beneath the surface, a dangerous heat licking behind his navel. You turn your face toward him, surprise flickering in your eyes, accompanied by a seductive yet restrained smile.

“You must be mistaking me for someone else, Mister Nigma,” you reply coyly. “I just came here to have a drink with myself.”

Oh. Oh. That’s a new one. It takes Edward half a second to grasp the game you’re playing, but once he does, a predatory grin, a smile more wolf than human, spreads across his features. He leans against the bar, biting his bottom lip, his eyes roaming up and down your alluring form before locking onto your beautiful doe eyes.

“Are you telling me that a pretty thing like you has no date to keep you company?” His voice becomes a low chant, sultry and confident, an invitation wrapped in intrigue. You flutter your eyelashes, playing your part perfectly, a finger gliding delicately along the rim of your glass. The simple gesture does unspeakable things to him.

“I’m afraid not,” you sigh, your eyes dancing over his face, trailing down his neck, then down his shirt. With each glance, you seem to devour him whole, and Edward’s smirk nearly falters, his resolve teetering dangerously with the obscene way you gaze at him.

“Besides,” you continue, your voice dropping to a sultry purr, “it seems I won’t find any suitable company in such a place.” The admission ignites a fiery desire within him, and he feels his cock twitching in interest. You perfect little minx.

“I find myself quite tired of this place. Would you be interested in sharing a last drink somewhere?” With a surge of confidence, Edward’s hand glides onto your bare thigh. The leather of his glove feels cool against your skin, but his fingers burn with unrestrained desire. He notices the way your eyes gleam, the way you subtly arch your back to give him a better view of your plunging neckline. The tension within him threatens to snap, and if he can’t have you right this moment, he fears he might explode.

“I might be expecting more than just a drink, Mister Nigma.” Your lips part slightly, making your intentions crystal clear (as if the innuendo from the start of your little game had gone unnoticed). Edward leans closer, his voice dropping even lower, imbued with promise.

“This can be arranged.”

With a satisfied smile, you gather your handbag, and Edward extends a hand. You take it gladly, holding it with a tenderness that betrays the fondness in your heart. He helps you off the stool, and together, you weave through the crowd until you finally exit the building, anticipation crackling in the air around you.

The moment you step into the chilly night air, a soft giggle escapes your lips as you turn to him, your face lighting up with an earnest, happy smile that could melt him into a puddle, if he weren’t already so far gone in his desire. Allowing his impulses to take control, Edward grabs your hand and pulls you along more forcefully, leading you into a darker alley beside the building. Your surprised yet amused gaze follows him, the sharp click of your heels echoing on the pavement as you quicken your pace to keep up with him.

He doesn’t take you far; just enough for the streetlights to fade into the background, allowing the anonymity of the night to wrap around you like a comforting cloak. Before you know it, he’s pinning you against the cold concrete wall, his hands already possessively gripping your waist.

In an instant, his mouth finds yours, the pent-up tension between you exploding as his tongue meets yours. Your wanton moans only spur him on, your fingers curling around the nape of his neck, drawing him closer. The kiss is heated and passionate, a symphony of tongue and teeth, wet sounds mingling with low groans and breathy gasps echoing in the dimly lit alley. In this moment, Edward finds he doesn’t care about feeling exposed, to feel anything else but you; your warmth, the softness of your skin as he lifts your thigh, your melodious voice already singing for him.

“You needy little thing…” he growls lowly, his hips rocking against your parted legs, pressing his already hardened cock against your burning core. You mewl in response, your touch frantic and urgent; one hand tugging at his shirt to pull him closer while the other cups his bulge, massaging him through his pants. A sinful noise escapes him, the sound of raw desire before his mouth finds yours once again.

“I am… only for you…” you whisper between heated kisses, licking his tongue with a fervor that ignites a fire within him. Your perfect fingers deftly find the buttons of his pants, unfastening them with a quick, practiced motion to free his aching length. Edward moans louder than he intends when your hand wraps around his silken warmth, pumping him to full mast, all the while you pepper kisses along his jaw.

“Please, put it inside me. I can’t— I need you right now,” you plead and beg, your voice thick with urgency, and he cannot find it within himself to protest. Not when he already feels on the brink, as if he could cum right here, right now, in this dirty alley, in your fist. He wants it, wants you, ferociously, with a near feral urgency.

Grabbing you by the waist, Edward flips you over, forcing you to face the wall. One of his feet kicks your legs apart as his hands gather the fabric of your dress, lifting it until it cascades down your lower back, exposing your perfect, beautiful ass hugged by the lace of your alluring underwear. You arch your back willingly, giving him an obscene display that leaves him breathless. Looking over your shoulder, you cast him a sinful glance, biting your bottom lip as you whimper, impatient and yearning.

His fervor surprises even himself as his thumb pulls your underwear aside, two fingers teasing your already drenched slit, parting your swollen lips before breaching your aching hole without any ceremony or tenderness. The stretch is fierce, your unprepared walls clamping down around him, and you cry out loudly, the sound echoing through the alley. For an instant, he revels in the sensation of your warmth, the creamy slickness of your cunt clenching on his fingers. Any other day, he would savor the moment, prepare you until you were completely open and welcoming. But tonight, he can’t wait, not a second longer, not when you’re already bucking your hips and fucking yourself on his fingers, not when his cock is drooling precum all over his throbbing shaft.

With one merciless motion, he retrieves his fingers from your weeping cunt, the emptiness making you sob impatiently, and already, he aligns himself to your hole. In one brutal snap of his hips, his cock is fully sheathed inside you, stretching you to your limits, forcing your insides to accommodate his punishing length. You scream at the sudden invasion, the pain mingling with pleasure as he begins a relentless, punishing rhythm. Your hands scramble for purchase on the wall in front of you, your body jerking with every thrust as he drives into you, his cock spearing you deep until all you can remember is the shape of him filling you completely, the way his cockhead kisses your cervix with every thrust.

It’s painful, deliciously painful, until all sensation melds into a burning pleasure that makes you moan far too loudly for being in public. Edward slaps your ass, a gesture both new and exhilarating, something that had been lingering in his mind for a while. But before he can feel any remorse, you react beautifully to the impact, moaning in a way that compels him to do it again. And again. Each slap elicits a sinful sob from your lips.

His hands grip your waist tightly as he watches intently the obscene way your ass bounces against his abdomen, enthralled by the sight of his cock stretching your abused hole, the sensation of your velvety walls clenching ferociously around his length driving him nearly insane. Low, desperate moans escape him as he pistons into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with your cries echoing into the night.

“I– fuck! I’m close– Edward!” Your cries stutter, and he knows he’s nearing his own undoing. With a growl, he intensifies his pace, each thrust more aggressive than the last. One hand braces against the wall as the alley fills with the obscene noises of wet squelching skin, flesh hitting flesh, ragged breaths, and heavy panting.

“Gonna fill you– oh, needy girl. Right here– where everyone can see,” he growls, words spilling from his lips, a voice and intent he does not recognize, driven by pure lust and desire, but he cannot help himself, not when you sing so beautifully for him, not when your cunt feels so exquisite as it clamps down on his cock, not when, finally, your walls spasm and flutter around him in ecstasy, triggering his own release. With a low growl, he feels his balls tighten before the first heavy ropes of cum shoot deep inside your ruined hole.

He collapses on top of you moments later, breathless and panting, his softening cock still buried inside you as his spent drips down your thighs obscenely. You tremble with the shock of your devastating orgasm, the tender skin of your ass burning where Edward spanked you, and still bent over as he presses a kiss to your temple. You sigh contentedly, and after a blissful moment, he reluctantly withdraws, tucking himself back into his pants before adjusting your dress and helping you stand up properly.

When you turn to face him, your glow is radiant, a loving smile etched on your lips. Despite the evidence of your passionate encounter smudging your makeup, you’ve never looked so beautiful; you never look as beautiful as when you look at him with such tenderness and adoration in your eyes. He hopes his expression mirrors yours as his hands cup your face, pulling you into a gentle, tender kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs softly, genuine warmth in his voice as he repeats your name like a caress, through his panting breath. You can’t help but press a kiss to his cheek, wobbling your way in his arms, exhausted and satisfied.

“Would you like to go to my place? It’s closer…” you whisper in a breathy, ragged voice, that surprises and amuses you both. Edward nods quietly, holding you close, savoring the warmth of your body.

Suddenly, his phone chimes, interrupting your blissful moment. He groans before reluctantly peeling himself off you to retrieve the infernal device from his pocket. His frown deepens when he sees Harvey Dent’s name displayed on the screen, his eyes widening in disbelief as he opens the message, the blood draining from his face in an instant.

You forgot your cane. Will bring it to you tomorrow. 

You seemed busy.

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

Choi Beomgyu Perspective Reading

I am not sure if I am going by the order I had to do these readings. I am just going to the idols I am drawn to, so next is my bias of TXT and my second fave UTL Idol, so happy to get to this one. I am getting a melancholic soul with him, so he may be someone who is solemn and can get depressed a lot. It may not be full depression, but just gets down a lot. There is a deepness to him. Although very vibrant, energetic and chatty when around others or on camera. On his own he is very calm and reflective.

So, I was thinking of a song for him. I got a bunch of songs, mostly slow romantic songs, but right when I was writing this Beautiful Soul by Jesse Mccartney popped up and I was like, yup this works for him. I don't know if any lyrics stand out for me, but I am looking at this picture and just think he has a beautiful soul. So, he isn't pulling me to the dark mirror deck first, so that is a good sign. Let's look at the cards and decks I get pulled to.

Asking him to share about himself and cards just flew out. I guess he wants to share. I see the Lover card here, and the song Lover Boy by Mariah Carey is popping up. He is a lover. He is sweet and a very devoted person. I hear he is a sweet soul and to be careful of depression, so yeah, not sure why I get this, since he won't see this, but okay. He has a heart of gold, and he is very loving. He seems to open his heart to anyone, but especially the ones closest to him. He will give his all to them. He is the type to shine bright or bring color to a dark situation. It is like if things are dark, he will light the way. He has strong faith and optimism. He may believe in a higher source power. He may seem to have faith that things will work out and if not, it wasn't meant to be. I do see him getting upset when things don't work out, but he does understand the big picture of things. I am getting he is a romantic type and loves the idea of being loved. There is a primal/animalistic nature to him. He is a hunter type; it is that Aries energy he has. He is a very driven and determined person and the animal can come out of him, although a kind soul in general. He can attack when provoked. So far, I feel very light and calm, so his energy is very calming and nice to be around.

Omg once again, so many cards flew out and rather quick. This shows he is very quick to speak and say what is on his mind if you ask. I can see him being the type to talk your ear off if you give him the space. This one card gives me he is very tied to his Mother. He may have been coddled and very pampered as a child. I sense his Mom gave him all the love and support he needed, which is why he has the capabilities of showing his emotions and not being too afraid to do so, because he may have been encouraged to do it. He is a devoted companion, a loyal friend and someone who stands by his friends/partner no matter what, he may get a bit clingy though, not going to lie, but he is a Pisces, so you know, comes with the territory. There is a purity to him, a need to keep his innocence and youth. I look at this card and the person is covering themselves; it makes me think of that video when the person asks him to take his shirt off, and he tried to hide himself, it kind of shows he likes to keep a bit of his innocence, although he may like to show a sexy side on stage as an idol, and sorry, boy isn't as innocent, as he may portray, because my love readings show a different side to him. He still likes to have that semblance of innocence. Overall, he is a pure soul.

To me Beomgyu has strong feminine energy and nothing wrong with that, this could be due to his close relationship with his Mom. There is a need to be protected or taking care of by others. Once again, this may be how he was brought up. He could be very into his looks and his appearance as well. He has a very creative and imaginative mind. It is like there are thought bubbles in his head all the time. He has a strong vivid imagination. He could sometimes just be in his own world lost in imagination. He could also be prone to overthinking things as well. This could end up leading him to not take action on things.

He is showing he is very adventurous, spontaneous and can be the life of the party. I mean to us fans, we are like duh, we know this. It seems he can be good at multi-tasking and has the capabilities of coping with changes well. I will say a slight negative I might be getting from him is he may be a bit of a Momma's boy, this is probably the hint of shadow I am getting. I am kind of getting that if he faces a problem, he may just call his Mom rather than deal with it himself. I also getting if the boy is into Women, I don't assume, they may never be good enough for him, due to his high standards, because they may not live up to his Mom. It is like if he is in a relationship she will play a huge role, like I can see him being like my Mom does this and that, and them being like, I am not your Mom! I can also see him going to his Mom more than his partner in situations that could end up being a problem. Just going by intuitive sense here, don't quote me on this. No facts. But overall, not getting anything too crazy. I might not need to pull the shadow decks to be honest.

He should follow his intuition wherever he is guided towards or drawn to do. He should go ahead and do it, even if he is the first to do so. It seems there may be a direction he is pulled towards that may not be in alignment with others, but he should follow what his gut is telling him. There are times when he wants/likes to lead the charge, but there is a sense of him holding back a bit. There are a lot of opportunities that can come to him. He could probably be very successful if he follows the direction of his intuition, that gains inspirations and commits to what he wants to do. I feel there is something he wants to do, something he is passionate about, but he may struggle to commit to it.

I am continuously getting messages of him being blocked intuitively that can help him gain clarity on the future and help him make plans for the future, like dude follow your gut! They keep stressing this in this reading. There is something that can be a huge success for him if he allows it. This is definitely a time to spend much needed time near water, be it an ocean, river, a water fountain, maybe take a bath, but this can help clear his mind to receive any messages or intuitive hits that can give him clarity on what he needs to do. Anyway, it just seems I am mostly getting guidance for him, not really about him. So, I will end with the Tarot.

He may feel a bit exhausted and burdened. He may struggle to say no or create boundaries, maybe when it comes to his work, but like, can they say no? I just think he may just push himself too much or put too much pressure on himself to do too much. It does seem he likes to be freer. Wanting a clean slate, to start new. It is like he wants to start back where he started. There is a sense of nativity and foolishness to him. A bit of innocence he does have. He could lack experience in some things. I believe he wants a fresh new start. It is like he thinks back to when they started and enjoyed the freshness and innocence of it all. I don't know, but that Pisces energy coming through here with this need of not wanting to grow up and get older, like they want to stay young forever, and always reflect on what was.

There is an alluring aspect to him, a deepness and an intensity that he does not show to everyone. He can be pretty secretive. I am getting looks can be deceiving, so yeah, he isn't as innocent as he portrays. That is an image he would like to uphold, but he isn't a saint. He seems very into taboo topics of interest as well. These cards show that he is a very strong individual. He is not weak minded or as gentle as we may think. He is confident, powerful and determined in his own right. I don't really see him as much of a pushover from these cards. I can see him being pretty confrontational, when need be, like I have mentioned he gets the Knight of Swords a lot, so he can get in your face if provoked. He is a sweetheart, but he isn't a weakling. He is willing to face any challenge that stands in his way. He's also got some stubborn energy in him as well. He is also very practical, stable, goal-oriented, ambitious and always tries to look at things in long-term goals. There is a sense of security he needs to have or some sense of control he needs to have. I see him being a very responsible individual. I don't see him being the type to spend frivolously or take action on things too quickly. He will need a plan and think things through before doing so, but he is quick at the mouth I will say lol but not when it comes to taking action on things.

Overall, his energy is rather chill and calm. A very light energy. I had no struggles working with his energy at all, probably the easiest to do. He seems to be in a good place energetically. I didn't even need to pull the shadow decks. I felt it wasn't needed. Happy to see overall he is good. Also, he is a multi-layered character, he has a soft side, a tough side, a loud side, an intense side and a melancholic/reflective side. And probably others. He is definitely not a one-dimensional person, and you may never know which side will come out when he is around you. The closer you are to him, the more layers you will see.

[goodluckclove]

I'm having a lot of fun talking with people about why they struggle in their writing, and I figure I'd share a little bit about what would keep me from writing. It's especially relevant given how soon Blind Trust is coming out - and, like I said, if you're willing to be real to me I'll be real right back.

I'll put it under a read more, as I've had the amount of alcohol that it takes me to be extra loose - meaning half of one canned cocktail. And I don't want to freak anyone out who doesn't want to see me feel a little more angsty than I tend to be online. But as I said before, I want to be honest about the craft as much as I urge others to be.

Here we goooo. Say goodbye to proper capitalization babies, Dad's getting funky.

so i started writing when i was twelve years old. i wrote carnation, a 10k word zombie novella about thinly-veiled representations of me and my two best friends at the time fighting zombies. it wasn't very good. i never wrote anything before. i enjoyed it though, so i proceeded to keep writing, near-constantly for the next fifteen years.

here's the thing, though, and it's something i don't see a lot of elder writers talk about. probably because it's not a super pleasant thing to hear, but i'm pretty sure i could pull it off.

uh, my name is clove gardener. i'm twenty-seven years old now. and i do not think i'm that good of a writer.

i don't think i'm bad. i mean, i've been published. i've worked as a copywriter and a ghostwriter. i've written for work for a few years now, so - like - objectively it must be passable. i don't hate my writing. i think it's accessible, which is cool. but if you were to ask me hey do you think you're a good writer? i would skirt around the question without answering directly until i could figure out a way to change the subject.

at this point i don't think that's going to go away. the improvement, though, has been that i barely think about that anymore. it's like there's a little dipshit in the back of my head, and occasionally he will hiss-whisper this is shit what are you doing until I find a way to shut him up.

i kind of feel like that's just the thing that happens when you're a writer. it's the camp i'd rather be in, at least. because the alternative is that i'm a really good writer who might consider themselves capable to claim authority and tell you how to do things i actually know nothing about. i'd rather have doubt. maybe less than what i have now, but still.

writers, i think, overlap with theater kids in the sense of being dramatic little piss babies. i am proud to say that i am significantly less of a piss baby than i potentially could be, especially considering that i'm in writing and theater. but you're bound to be a little dramatic at some point.

i think in the six-ish months since i've started blind trust, i've had maybe two creative existential crises. that's pretty good. that's reasonable. and they were not too unproductive either. i've learned that you can feel whiny and pitying and scared and self-loathing, and still do the thing.

i don't think you should publish your book. cool, ryan (i named my inner dipshit ryan). i'm doing it anyway.

nobody actually wants to pay money for it. yeah, ryan. maybe.

you're a terrible writer. i like it, though. i want to see how it ends. so let's keep going.

if you're wanting to publish/self-publish, and you think you don't have a chance because you aren't a beacon of self-assurance and confidence - guess what, buddy, i don't think many of the greats were. it's almost a stereotype i've seen of famous writers also being angsty weirdos who crumble into despair because the apple they ate was slightly too mealy (this is based on nothing but i can see it happening to kafka). if you think you can't be a writer because you aren't like me - friend, colleague, son, daughter, child, we are both angsty weirdos and that's okay.

last week i sobbed because riley showed me a video where a kiwi bird was sad and we had to spend the rest of the night watching videos of kiwi birds before donating to a kiwi bird charity. i make one phone call to the doctor and i have to lie down for the rest of the day. i am kind, i am fun, i am funny, and i am also like three bad dice rolls away from a breakdown. you can be both of those things. i have nuance.

i'm fine, by the way. it's been a good day. i'm just stressed about publishing because the thought of asking people to pay Human Currency for my work makes me deeply uncomfortable. but we're going to fucking deal with that, aren't we, ryan?

i don't know if this is unprofessional to reveal, but if it convinces one person to pursue a life in writing even though they sometimes take a trip to the Panic Zone, fuck it. i'm fine, you're fine, we're all going to be fine.

we should name our inner dipshits. drop your dipshit names below. ryan is your classic little goblin, but he's dressed like an e-boy. i think he vapes. i hate him.

[burst-of-iridescent]

Hi! I love all your posts regarding atla and deep diving into Zuko and Katara's relationship-those analysis's are *chief's kiss* perfect

Anywho, I hope you don't mind me asking, but I'm guessing you heard about Bryke wanting to expand the atla universe, and will be creating a new movies, one of which, with the Gaang as adults, but as far as I know won't have any of the returning head writers like Aaron Ehasz..

so my question is: do you think there is any hope for these movies? Because to me I feel like it might just be a fully animated comic (we all know how those turned out) & just be 2 hrs of Katara and Aang saying "Sweetie" back an forth. Yes I'm still saltly

frankly? no.

and that's not even me saying it as a salty zutara shipper who doesn't want to see kat.aang as an established relationship. i doubt how good these movies are going to be because bry.ke have little-to-no understanding of their characters, especially katara and zuko, and at least since atla, haven't shown the self-awareness to hire a writer's team that can compensate for their shortcomings. i've said it before and i'll say it again: they have great, creative ideas and an excellent eye for stunning visuals and an immersive world. but when it comes to the nuances of characterization and story-building, they cannot do it on their own. lok proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt.

but more than bry.ke, these movies are also emblematic of a larger problem that i see in multiple franchises: the subordination of creative, meaningful storytelling in service to shameless nostalgia cash-grabbing. ask yourself, do we really need a story about the adult gaang? most of the main plot threads that they could've expanded on from atla have already been (mostly badly) answered in the comics: what happened to ursa, azula's potential redemption, decolonisation, industrialisation vs tradition, the founding of a new air nomad legacy, zuko's struggles as fire lord. any new story would either have to retcon previously established "canon" or put a new spin on old themes. the latter of which i severely doubt bry.ke's capability to pull off, particularly if any level of nuance is required.

atla is slowly but surely heading in the direction of star wars/harry potter/the mcu in producing new material just for the sake of making money instead of truly adding something impactful to the canon. the fact that absolutely no new atla material since the show itself has ever managed to live up to the original is proof that the franchise has no idea what it's doing.

and before someone comes at me to say that it's impossible to ever live up to the original - just take a look at the hunger games revival happening right now. the ballad of songbirds and snakes has been received so well because it isn't just a shameless cash-grab. it's a valuable contribution to the series that expands on the universe and themes of the original trilogy, giving more depth and nuance to the original books instead of detracting from them. because collins adds to the canon only when she has something meaningful to say, and for a franchise that she could have milked to absolute filth, that restraint reflects not only her integrity as a creator, but the value she places on the stories that she tells - which in turn makes her readers value and respect them as well.

and that's a lesson that i think every single storyteller should take to heart. if you want to be respected as a writer, you have to respect your characters and your stories first. because if you, the creator, don't... why should anyone else?

[dreamersbcll]

Sam’s Heart

Last thing we should do is go slow

for @radicalfrancoiseappledelhi

——————————————————————————

Crimson.

God, Sam loved that color.

Admittedly, the first time she killed- Richie - she was squeamish. The blood was thick and hot, a reminder that the body below her was once a thriving vessel. Crimson blood coated her face dripped down her arms, languid and viscous. Almost like hot molasses.

At first, it made her stomach turn. She had stood up, staring at his body, breathing in shallow, quick breaths. So many questions swirled through her head, so many pointless prayers following each question mark. Sam stared down at her ex-boyfriend’s dead body and tried not to vomit all her sins onto the carcass.

And then, a flip in her head switched on. Suddenly, the blood that made her shirt stuck to her chest wasn’t suffocating- it was an invitation. A hand held out to her, offering her a way out.

If she looked at the hand hard enough, she would notice that it was coated in fake blood-dyed corn syrup, maybe. Not the blood that she had just drawn from the body below her.

Who was she to deny a helping hand?

From then on, crimson was her favorite color—the deep burgundy, the color of love, passion, and even courage.

But she knew it was also the color of rage, warning, and revenge.

It was also the color of ruthlessness.

Sam Carpenter was no stranger to ruthlessness. It fueled her and forced her to adapt and become more creative. Life wasn’t always so simple and direct; adversity constantly plagued her when she was ready to succeed.

Luckily for her, Tara was just as capable of adapting.

——

“Hand me the knife, mi cielo.”

Tara frowned, gripping the knife tightly in her hands. The pair had just tied down their latest victim, and Sam was putting gloves on as Tara watched him thrash around in his chair. Usually, Sam would let Tara take control- just for a bit- but not today, not on this one.

This one was Sam’s.

“But I want-” her sister whined.

Sam tutted softly, holding out her hand. “My love.”

Her little sister bowed her head in concession and handed the blade to her big sister. Tara stepped back behind the man in the chair and gripped the rope, holding his chest still, playing with the frayed edges. Sam observed her little sister, drinking in the dark eyes that were fixated on their victim. Her little girl was so beautiful. Sam would make sure this man paid for what he did to her little girl.

Pulling back, Sam looked down at the man, grinning a bit. “Now, what do you have to say for yourself, hmm?” she purred, twirling the knife in her fingers.

He pulled away, his eyes full of tears. Sam tutted softly, pushing the blade under his neck, forcing him to look up at her. “Hey, hey. Look at me. Look into my eyes. Tell me what you see.”

“They’re dark. Cold,” he whimpered, tears leaking out of his own eyes.

“They can be forgiving if you tell us who we are,” Tara quietly chimed in.

Sam looked up at her sister, her heart warming at the sight. Her little sister had gotten so much more comfortable with herself and her abilities in her new role. It was clearly reflected in her steely and level voice.

Their prey looks between the two, his eyes darting back and forth as if he couldn’t decide who he was afraid of more. He stuck his tongue out, moistening his lips. Sam noticed how his lower lip quivered and how blurry his eyes were with tears.

Good. He should be afraid. He knows what he did.

“Please,” he pleaded softly, his voice cracking.

There it was. The admission. Sam could feel the air shift, all the joy of their mission slowly leaking. Tara’s shoulders slumped in defeat, her hands slightly trembling.

But Sam hadn’t given up yet. She was ruthless. She would be relentless. It was in her blood, not her sister’s.

“You know. I know you know who we are. Come on, think. Use that big brain of yours,” she snarled, pressing the knife harder on his neck.

“Don’t lie to us. We know,” Tara whispered, pulling at the rope.

The man flailed in his chair, crying like a little bitch. “I don’t! I don’t know! Please just let me go, please!”

Sam shook her head, pulling back. He gulped at the loss of contact against his neck, blood trickling down the cut she left. She couldn’t deny how delightful the crimson looked and how carnivorous she was for more.

“Hmm. Wrong answer, Mr. Carpenter,” she replied, her tone bored.

He paused, frozen. “How do you know who I am?” he asked meekly, his eyes darting between the two.

Without hesitation, Tara replied.

“Hi, Daddy,” Tara breathes, her fingers tightening around the rope.

Recognition floods through his eyes, his body sagging in relief. It took everything in Sam not to scoff at the action. Pathetic. He actually thinks that her little girl will save him. So pathetic.

Sam was the one who raised her, nurtured her, and taught her how to fight and survive. All he did was teach Tara how to leave and run away. It took years for Sam to earn back the trust Tara lost in her, and he thinks he can gain it all back with remorseful eyes.

Not on her watch.

He- Tara’s father- pulled against the restraints, lunging towards Tara. “Tara. Oh my god, Tara. Por favor, mi amor. Please don’t hurt me. Please. I’m your dad. Your Papi.”

Swiftly pushing Tara behind her, Sam wedged herself between the two, thrusting her knife under his jugular, not caring if she nicked his skin or not. He made the mess first in their lives. She didn’t really care if he bled uncontrollably or sparingly; crimson was crimson.

She maneuvered the knife under his chin, forcing him to lol up at her. “Mhm. You are. As much as I hate to admit it, you are.”

Glancing back at Tara, her beautiful girl, she hummed. Tara looked nervous, her eyes darting between her two parental figures. Clearing her throat, she got Tara’s attention. Their eyes locked, boring into each other’s minds. Instead of speaking, Sam just tilted her head, jutting her chin out—a challenge.

Will you stay by my side?

Without hesitation, Tara nodded.

I’m yours.

Sam smiled wide, returning to the pathetic man who once parented her years ago. He looked up at her, hopeful, almost as if Sam would let him go. Pathetic. Men were so pathetic.

She pressed the knife harder into his neck, letting droplets of crimson stream down her brand-new blade. He whimpered at the actions, his eyes wide, his lips trembling in fear.

Bending down, Sam got close to his head, her lips brushing his ear. “But, you’re not my father,” she whispered.

Behind her, Tara nodded, her eyes dark, her lips curling into an intoxicating smile.

Bloodlust.

Grinning, Sam pulled back, her pupils dilating at the blood trickling down his throat. God. What a sight. It was a treat killing Christina- but this was a new rush. Killing the man who tore their family apart and destroyed her little sister? She couldn’t imagine anything better.

“And you’ll never be her dad ever again.”

One quick flick of the wrist, and Sam was painted crimson once again.

——

“You look so good, my love. So strong. So powerful,” Sam whispered, wiping a smear of blood off Tara’s jaw.

Tara was sitting on the bathroom counter, her legs wrapped around Sam’s midriff, her eyes closed in exhaustion. Sam was gently washing away the bloodstains, letting Tara press against her body. She would always hold her little sister up. She would always be there for her. Tara was her little girl, always.

Her little sister hummed, her eyelashes fluttering in exhaustion. “I do?”

Sam pulled back, smiling a bit. She reached out, brushing sweaty hair off her sister’s forehead. Her heart grew two sizes as Tara pushed her face into her hand, sighing contentedly.

“Mhmm. Ruthless, my love. You look ruthless,” she purred.

Tara smiled wide, her eyes still closed. “Just like you?” she whispered back, a smile spreading across her face.

Without hesitation, Sam replied. “Just like me.”

Tara then blushes, her cheeks coloring deep crimson.

[kaminocasey]

25 Days of Life Day: Day 3 - Sledding with Hardcase

A/N: I've not been sledding in like ten years, so if this is awkward, oops. Also, s/o to @idledreams for inspiring me with the lap sitting. Bless <3

Warnings: Minors DNI; suggestive content, lap sitting, crude-ish jokes? 501st shenanigans.

The snow is coming down in giant beautiful flakes, sticking to the ground, and you can’t help but smile, knowing the 501st boys are probably having the time of their lives right now. So you put on your coat, gloves, hat, and boots, pour yourself a cup of caf, and walk out the door of the medbay, heading down toward where you think the biggest slope is. 

“Hiya, chief.” Fives greets you, holding a lid of one of the long crates that holds ammunition and weapons. 

You look and see a ton of the men of the 501st are, not just Fives. They really do get creative when they want to have fun. 

“Chief.” General Skywalker nods, smiling. 

Ahsoka greets you as well. 

You nod back. “General. Commander.”

“Come to join the fun?” Ahsoka asks you, grinning.

“Came to help out if someone gets hurt.” You chuckle. 

“Smart.” Skywalker pats you on the back and walks off, Ahsoka in tow. 

“Hardcase was looking for you.” Kix’s voice comes out of nowhere and you turn to find him bundled up, arms crossed, grinning teasingly.

Hardcase had taken a fancy to you in the last few months but neither of you had said as much. Mostly just flirty banter and awkward silences were all you were capable of, apparently. You’d like to change that, though. Maybe you could let him know how you felt today. 

As if you were on the same wavelength of thought, Hardcase calls your name from the bottom of the slope, waving up at you. You wave back with a wide grin. 

“Come down!” Hardcase shouts up to you.

“Absolutely not! I’m here to make sure you don’t hurt yourselves!” You laugh. 

He shakes his head, amused, and starts running up the hill to you, his feet only sinking into the snow slightly, making the trek a little harder than he originally thought it’d be. You can’t help but smile at his ambition and just how cute a dangerous trooper could be. 

You remember the first time you met Hardcase. He had been in a minor explosion and got some pretty nasty burns. He’d just laughed it off and said “It happens”. Now, the two of you somehow always manage to gravitate together. 

“You look nice and toasty today.” Hardcase greets you when he finally approaches you.

“Oh, yeah. So warm.” You try to keep your teeth from chattering. 

You see Fives and Echo go down on two of the “sleds” yelling something about a race and you and Hardcase laugh.

“You wanna try?” Hardcase asks you, picking up one of the crate lids. 

“If I get hurt, who will help-”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Kix suddenly appears out of nowhere again. 

You give him a warning look and he smirks. 

“Give me that.” Kix takes your caf and pushes you toward Hardcase.

“Come on.” Hardcase pulls you to the edge of the hill, sitting his crate lid/sled down in the snow. 

How did you get roped into this? You probably should’ve just stayed in the medbay today. 

“Nope. Absolutely not. Sorry.” You shake your head.

“You’re not scared are you?”

“No.” Yes…

“I’ll go down with you.” Hardcase offers.

A few of the other 501st guys standing nearby start snickering at what Hardcase just said and he rolls his eyes. 

“Ignore them.” He chuckles, sitting down on the crate and patting his lap. “Come on.”

“Oh…” Your cheeks immediately start burning at the realization that he wants you to sit on his lap. “You sure you don’t wanna go on a date first? Normally lap sitting isn’t until the third date.”

He laughs and you can’t help but laugh with him. His smile has always been infectious. 

“How about just this once lap sitting can come before a first date and then I promise as soon as we get planetside, I’ll take you out. Somewhere without any of my vod around.”

Hard to say no to that, right?

Caving with a sigh, you ease yourself down onto Hardcase’s lap, trying to ignore the whistles and teases coming from his brothers.

“Atta girl.” 

You try to ignore the warm feeling that gives you as you feel him underneath you, and pressed against your back. Instinctively, you lean against him, warmth flooding your veins and his hands press against your stomach.

“This okay?” He asks you, his breath warm against your neck and you nod.

It’s honestly more than okay.

“You better not let go of me.” You murmur, breathless.

“I promise not to let go of you.” He grins.

“COME ON, CHIEF! YOU GOT THIS!” Fives yells up from the bottom of the hill, grinning wildly. 

“DO I?” You shout back, a nervous laughter bubbling up. 

“Yeah you do.” Hardcase gives you an encouraging squeeze. 

“DON’T BE A BABY!” Jesse yells up next. 

“Ugh. Okay. Do it.” You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Do you remember that night a couple weeks ago when we crash landed and you didn’t even flinch?” He asks. 

“Mmhm…” You mumble.

“Easier than that.” He promises. “By a long shot.”

You open your eyes and lean back slightly to look at him, he’s glancing at your lips and you feel every nerve ending in your body stand straight up. 

“You promise?” You look down at his lips as well and he starts to lean in but it moves the sled and all of a sudden, at full force, you’re plunging to the bottom of the hill.

A scream rips its way up your throat and you immediately grip Hardcase’s legs so hard he’s sure to bruise.

And then… it’s over almost as quick as it started. 

You’re clutching your chest, breathing heavily. 

“You’re okay! You’re alright! You did so good!” Hardcase praises. “I’m so sorry. Kry pushed us. I’m gonna go kill him.” 

You carefully get up and stand there as Hardcase runs back up the hill, making Kry take off, laughing. Echo comes over and steadies you. 

“How comfy was the sled?” Fives winks and you give him an obscene gesture before making your way back up to the medbay. 

Later that night, there’s a knock, followed by a familiar voice outside your barracks. You pace toward the door, opening it and finding Hardcase with his hand up on the doorframe so he’s leaning closely to the door.

“Hey.” You smile, softly.

“We were interrupted earlier.” He smirks. 

You barely give him time to finish his sentence before you grab him by his sweatshirt, pulling him into your quarters and crushing your lips to his. 

“Remind me to find you in the next near death experience.” He chuckles between kisses.

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting  @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz  @burningfieldof-clover @rebelsriley

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Ooh I’ve been very hesitant about reaching out to you for this (my own mind being weird don’t worry) but I just really love your fics and I would love to see some more because it brings me a lot of joy seeing your work come by on my dash. im sending lots of love and creative energy your way!!

as for the emojis that i almost forgot:

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

Aww hey!! No need to be nervous with me I love receiving these and I am so very appreciative of the kind works <3 Thank you!!!

60 for 🔼:

We might reach some big spoilers here? Unsure!

---

And he means it. August 4th 2020 Shannon better get ready. “You want a hand carrying things up?”

“Oh,” Shannon says. “It’s okay. There’s an elevator.”

“Still,” Buck replies. “It’s a lot to carry.”

“You’re relentlessly helpful,” Shannon accuses.

“Guilty as charged,” Buck grins.

“Fine,” she says. “I’d appreciate the help, Buck.”

It never once crosses his mind that going up into her apartment would be a bad idea. He swears, it never does. 

◀️

It’s a mistake. 

She knows it’s a mistake as soon as the door is shut behind them, and he’s laying her dry cleaner bags over the back of a chair. It’s a mistake because he has no reason to stay, but she doesn’t want him to leave. 

And maybe she’s not really thinking, is the other thing. There’s no inherent malintent. None at all. She’s not really thinking, because he’s asking her about art and the things she used to like.  For a moment, she just feels like herself. Like Shannon, the person who used to exist. Before she drained the hope from Eddie’s eyes. Before she got married to a choppy video call reception with the desert. Before she failed to keep her baby healthy after a birth injury she didn’t see coming. Before Helena drilled into her how she was failing; as a mother, as a wife, as a woman. Before she lost her mom. She’s just Shannon, with dreams and goals that someone thinks she’s capable of. 

So when she steps closer to him at the door and thanks him for helping her today, and he smiles at her and says, “it was really my pleasure, Shannon,” her brain goes offline. 

She’s just Shannon. She doesn’t have a husband or children. Her relentless hormone-induced horniness is just because of the gorgeous man in front of her. The kind, thoughtful man who wanted to spend time with her. Who makes her feel good about herself. Her body is on fire and her brain has melted and…

And she kisses him. 

She reaches a hand to cup his face, stands on her tiptoes, and kisses him. 

He’s warm. His lips are soft. His face is a bit stubbly. It’s been a very long time since she has kissed anyone but Eddie, but this feels different. Not a bad sort of different. A little thrilling maybe. She wants more. A lot more.

Buck takes a second to respond. He is understandably caught off guard. 

There’s a brief second, after he processes, where he starts to kiss her back. Where he raises a hand, lets it hover above her waist. But he doesn’t touch her. He comes to his senses before then. 

Buck pulls away, scrambling back from Shannon like she’s burned him. His back hits her door. 

Shannon steps away from him, hands flying to her mouth.

“Oh my god,” she exhales into her palm as the full gravity of what she’s done crashes over her. 

Buck looks horrified. Those kind blue eyes are twisted with confusion  and something else she can’t read. 

“I would never do that to Eddie,” Buck says. His tone is scathing. Scolding. “I-I would never!”

[basu-shokikita]

Dethentines 2024 Day 6

OT3

As it has been made exceedingly clear by now, Skwistok is my OTP. My one and only, my endgame, the only pair I can see romantically in Metalocalypse, etc...

Even so, I have a number of ships I enjoy in very particular ways and I thought today would be a good day to dip on that. So, for day 6 of Dethentines you're getting a Skwistokface extravanganza because I like it and I think it's underrated! God bless!

It wasn’t everyday that Murderface felt inspired, but when he did, it made up for all the other days. He was overflowing with inspiration and creativity, stimulated unlike any other, capable of writing the sickest solos and providing the most important contributions to the…

“Gods damns it, Moidaface, dat amsnt hows you plays de F sharps.” Skwisgaar interrupted him for the upteempth time. “I tolds you, you gotsa be on de fours frets.”

Murderface frowned. He honestly didn’t know why he had to convince Skwisgaar for his idea to be approved. It’s not like he was his boss, was he? They were all equal in Dethklok, right? Except for Toki, obviously, Toki couldn’t do shit.

But Murderface was an original member, he should have a say, just like the others. It’s not like Pickles had to talk with Skwisgaar first before Nathan heard him out. So, why did he have to do that? What, so because Skwisgaar was fucking hot and talented that made him better than the others? Was that what was happening now? Was that the band Murderface joined?!

“Soes…ams you gonna plays ors?” Skwisgaar asked, raising his one particular and condescending eyebrow. “I gots stuff to does.”

Like what? Bang old ladies and fret the guitar all day?

He was going to say that when a Dethphone started ringing. Before Murderface had the time to check if it was his, Skwisgaar had already pulled his own from his pocket. “Hullos?”

God. Now he was going to have a whole conversation when Murderface was trying to show him something amazing. He started replaying his solo while Skwisgaar mumbled on the phone.

“Ja…Ja, I ams with Moidaface. In de studios.”

Murderface was really getting into this solo. This shit was fucking great! What the hell was Skwisgaar talking about?!

“We ams playi- whats? Rights nows?” Skwisgaar glanced over at Murderface and then at his bass. “...Shores. Byes.” A click indicated the end of the call.

“Who wasch it?” Murderface asked while still playing, trying not to seem too interested. Was Nathan asking how they were doing? Pickles, maybe? Were they secretly excited to know what he was cooking up?

“Toki.” Skwisgaar said in a deflated tone and Murderface cursed at the guy in his head.

Fucking…Toki. 

“...And what did he want?” 

“He wanteds- Moidaface you ams screwingks de F sharps again!”

“Okay, scho why don’t you teasch me how it isch, schinsche you know scho much!” Murderface said defensively. He was starting to get really tired of Skwisgaar’s attitude.

“Dats whats Is beens…” Skwisgaar leaned forward and pressed Murderface’s finger against the third string on the fourth fret. “Just stays- Just stays…” He pressed Murderface’s finger harder but Murderface kept pulling it off. “Just keeps pressingks deres!”

“It fucking hurtsch!” Murderface yelled.

“It wouldn’ts hurts if yous actuallies prascktiscked!” Skwisgaar countered

Murderface glared at him with disdain. “Your teaching schuschks.” 

Skwisgaar’s eyes went wide for an instant and then he got up. “Alrights, dats it.”

“What?”

“Ams gonna makes you plays dats notes.” Skwisgaar looked down at him. “Gets up.”

“Why?”

“Gets up!”

“Okay, fine! Jeschusch!”

Skwisgaar frowned at him before he started surrounded him. 

“Wait, what are you-”

“Just stays stills, Moidaface.” Skwisgaar said from behind him. “You mades me do dis.”

“Do wha-” Suddenly, Skwisgaar’s arms were surrounding him and, little after, Murderface felt Skwisgaar’s chest press against his back. “What the-”

“Just follows my fingers.” Skwisgaar said in a low tone, his face next to Murderface’s. This time, his fingers were gentle when they pressed against his. “Dere you goes…and dens you can does dis…” He moved Murderface’s hand with his own. “Ja, dats good…”

Unfortunately, Murderface could hardly pay attention to what he was playing, as good as it was sounding. The closeness, the almost intimate way with which Skwisgaar was touching him, his voice in Murderface’s ear... 

Murderface couldn’t think, he couldn’t think, and it’s like the room was getting hotter all of sudden. Like the temperature had dropped to hell-like levels. Did he have a fever? Was he getting sick? Was he dying?!

“Sees how easies it ams whens you listens to me?” Skwisgaar said so smugly but Murderface was already sweating, unable to come up with a retort, unable to move even. “...Moidaface?”

“Ah!” A voice shouted, and Murderface raised his eyes. It was Toki standing at the door in shock, eyes like they were about to pop out of its sockets, his jaw dropped to the ground. 

“Oh, Tokes.” Skwisgaar straightened up. “I was just teachingks Moidaface hows to-”

But Toki wasn’t listening, walking fast towards them, an expression of unbridled anger in his face. His guitar, hanging from his neck, knocked against his thighs with each of his steps.

“Toki?” Skwisgaar called him with confusion.

“You!” Toki pointed an accusing finger and Murderface began to flinch. “You rats!”

“Whats?”

The veins on Toki’s face were terrifying. Oh, shit, he was furious, and Murderface never wanted to be near that. He closed his eyes in fear, awaiting for the impact.

Yet nothing arrived.

Suddenly, there was a pull from his arm. “You ams tryings to steals Moidaface from mes!” Toki exclaimed childishly. 

He opened his eyes in surprise and saw it was Toki’s hand grabbing him from the arm. 

“Heugh?” Skwisgaar raised both eyebrows. “No, I ams teachingks him de notes.”

“No, you ams stealings hims from me!” Toki insisted with a pout. He pulled from Murderface again. “Let’s goes, Moidaface.” He was strong enough that he was going to drag him away from sheer strength alone.

“Noes.” Skwisgaar was now grabbing Murderface from the other arm. “We ams goingks to keeps prackstickings.”

“Noes!” Toki yelled. “We ams goings to plays! Comes on, Moidaface!” His grip on Murderface was getting stronger.

“I saids noes.” Skwisgaar was frowning now. “We ams prackstiskings.”

Toki turned to him, offended. After a few seconds glaring at each other, he asked. “Why you gots to copies me?”

“Seriouslies?”

“Ja! Yous always copyings me!” Toki argued. “Yous always doings whats I does! And nows yous tryings to steals my friends! Gets yous owns!”

“Toki, Is never once copies you, ams you kiddingks me?! Yous always copyings me! Yous! And yous copyings me right nows against! Goes gets someones elses, goes!”

“Noes, I wants to plays with Moidaface!”

“I don’ts cares! We ams goings to prascktice!”

“Stops copies me!”

“You stops copies me!”

“Stops copies me!”

“Stops copies me!”

“Stops copies me!”

“Stops copies me!”

Caught between the bantering and the pull of two different people, Murderface couldn’t think. He couldn’t process this. This was perhaps the first time in his life two people were fighting over him. And it was pretty flattering, he didn’t know Skwisgaar and Toki liked him so much. Could it be that he was underestimating his popularity all along? 

Nice.

“Fucks you, Skwisgaar, he ams comings with me!” Toki spat, pulling harder from Murderface.

“Fucks you, Toki, he ams stayings with mes!” Skwisgaar retorted, pulling just as hard from Murderface.

“Noes, he isnts!”

“Yes, he ams!”

“Ladiesch!” Murderface raised his arms, smugness all over his face. “No need to fight over me, there’sch plenty Murderface for everyone.” 

Skwisgaar and Toki stared at him, then at each other. Then, they got more aggressive.

“You ams just jealous Moidaface ams mines best friends and favorites evers!”

“Oh, ja?” Skwisgaar challenged him. “Wells, he ams my favor tits too, and he ams also mines new rhythms guitarists!”

“Whats?” Toki was baffled. “You cants do dats!”

“Oh, yes, I cans!”

“Wells, I loves him!”

“Noes, I loves him more!”

“Stops copies me!”

“Stops copies me!”

“Stops copies me!”

“Stops copies me!”

…

…..

……..

Skwisgaar stared at Murderface’s unconscious body on the floor. “You thinks he ams dead?” He glanced at Toki.

“No ways.” Toki said. “He ams laughings, sees? Totallies alives.”

Skwisgaar leaned in to inspect Murderface’s face. “Oh, ja, he is.” He straightened up. “Whats weirdos.”

“Ja, he alls be fines.” Toki sounded disinterested.

“Soes, eugh…” Skwisgaar gazed at the guitar Toki was still holding, almost apprehensively so. “Whys you knocks him outs whens you arriveds?”

“Oh.” Toki’s face turned inexpressive, though if Skwisgaar had been any closer, he would’ve been the pink tinge on his cheeks. “I don’t knows. He ams just pisseds me offs.”

“Eugh…”

“Wants to prackstice?” Toki suddenly asked. “I brings my guitars!” He lifted the bloodied guitar.

“...Ja, shores.” Skwisgaar followed Toki. “Since whens you wants to pracsticke?” He asked with skepticism.

Toki shrugged and smiled at him. “It ams a good days, rights?”

“Rights.” Skwisgaar reluctantly agreed. As Toki cleaned the blood and dust off his guitar with his shirt, he wondered. 

What were the odds that the two laziest members of the band suddenly felt like working on the same day?